No One Besides You
by Haikoui
Summary: Royai, 100theme challenge. Rated T for later chapters. Spoilers for the end of the manga and both animes.
1. Keychain

She sat there, watching the light bounce off the embroided hawk on her keychain. Her hands stroked the dents gently, carefully; she treasured this gift. And she could never let it leave her.

"Remember when you first got that keychain, Lieutenant?" a voice from behind her questioned. Riza sighed and hugged it to her chest.

"You gave it to me when we were young, sir," she stated, closing her eyes. The warmth from the fireplace was strangely chilling yet comfortable.

She felt him seat himself on the seat next to her. She opened one eye. He was watching her, seemingly content. "I gave it to you before I left for the military," he reminisced.

His arm snaked around her shoulder, pulling her toward him. She started, staring at him, but relaxing after some time.

"It suits you," Roy said, gently running his fingers through her hair. "Remember how you begged me not to leave? I was only eighteen years old or so..."

"You wanted to make the world a better place," she whispered into his chest. His hot breath was sending chills down her spine.

"Yes, I did," he said quietly, and started to pry the keychain from her grasp. "I just want to look," he said, chuckling, as she whined softly.

"That's all you ever want to do, Colonel..."

"Right."

The silence after that was becoming a bit unbearable and Roy coughed lightly into her shoulder. Riza frowned and pushed him, rubbing disgustedly at the place where he coughed.

"You're only spreading it, Hawkeye," he said, his eyes sparkling.

She narrowed her eyes, and then she laughed, throwing her head back. Roy stared at her, in all her beauty, as that music soared out of her mouth and into the small, cozy room of her apartment. It was very rare to see her laugh.

"I remember, sir," she began, "when you told Father that you were going to become a state alchemist."

"He went mad," he chuckled, and Riza shivered at the rumbles in his abdomen.

"Father claimed it was my fault," she said, "after you left for your one week break to your family. He said it was my fault that you wanted to become a state alchemist... if I hadn't met you, then it wouldn't have happened. He..."

Roy had stopped laughing when she said this. "What did he do, Riza?"

She took in a sharp breath, not being used to her first name coming from his lips. "He... he beat me."

Roy closed his eyes, and Riza could see the anger rising within him. Suddenly, he pulled her close, and she trembled in his arms. He kissed the top of her hair and she sniffed.

"That's why--" she hesitated, and after a moment she met his eyes. "That's why I didn't want you to leave. Because if you hurt others, then Father would beat me more. So then for the Ishbal war, I came to protect you... to make sure nothing happened."

"Such a strange way a keychain can bring a subject this touchy up," Roy said, and dug his face into the crook of her neck. A bark resounded from the bottom of the sofa and Roy laughed into Riza's soft skin. Black Hayate sat patiently until he was guided by Riza's hand to the two of them. He yipped and licked their faces in joy.

As Hayate was struggling to play with Riza, Roy whispered in her ear, "I still think that keychain suits you perfectly, Lieutenant."

Riza smiled back, her eyes softening for her commanding officer. "I do too, sir."

A/N: Yeah, chapter one is up... I just realized what a huge challenge this is going to be. Oh, god.


	2. Bubblewrap

Pop.

Roy frowned, staring at the wrap that embraced the package. It was... bumpy. And it popped. Why did it pop? He squeezed a bumpy part of the wrapper, and listened as it popped again. Roy hated this sound. Cursing, he threw the package over across the room and it landed on his Lieutenant's desk, and the paperwork flew in all directions. He cursed again and Havoc looked up from his work.

"She's going to get you now, Colonel," he said brightly, and Roy shook his fist at him.

"Don't try," said the colonel murderously.

Havoc just shrugged. Then he sniggered as the doorknob started to twist and turn.

Roy's eyes widened as he threw himself on the ground and gathered up all the paperwork. Lieutenant Hawkeye stode in, an natural serious look crossing her facial feautures. Everyone stared at her.

Her demeanor changed (for the worse), however, when she caught Roy on the floor, covered by paperwork.

Riza's eyes narrowed.

Havoc barked out a laugh and lit a cigarette, puffing contently as Fuery snickered into his table. Falman just stared at Roy and Roy stared at Riza, and Riza stared back at him, an angry glint in her eyes. Breda, who had absolutely no interest whatsoever, propped himself against his desk and snatched one of Havoc's loveletters to see by which woman he was going to be dumped by next.

Riza then looked towards her desk, which was smothered with paperwork all around. She leaned over, careful not to let her uniform top go up too much--seeing how Roy was looking up at her right now, that would be a dangerous thing to do.

The First Lieutenant stood straight once more, but in her hands was the wrap, which popped mercilessly as she crushed it.

"Sir," she began as Havoc jumped on top of all the desks. He started to wrestle Breda for his letter, but Riza nor Roy payed any attention. "Bubblewrap is not funny. With all due respect, Colonel... I... permission to act freely, sir?"

"Of course, Lieutenant."

Bang.

The bubblewrap was now smoking and there was a hole in which a bullet had pierced the middle of the bubblewrap. Riza held her pistol in her free hand and she was frowning. "No joking around in the military, sir."

Roy didn't hear what she said; he was busy cowering under her desk, shaking horribly--the bullet had missed the top of his head by nearly a millimeter.

She sat down at her desk and pulled him out. Then she pulled him out by the hand and he flushed, staggering to his feet.

Riza handed him the bubblewrap and he stared at it as its last bubbles popped.

They let their hands linger a little bit to feel the skin of eachother.

Right... bubblewrap.


	3. Savior

_Three seconds._

His hands gripped the pistol in horror, staring down at the two innocent doctors he had just murdered.

_Six seconds._

He shut his eyes, and in flew the images of blood and the sounds of gunshots.

_Nine seconds._

He opened them in desperation and pulled out his pistol once more in an attempt to pull the trigger and commit suicide.

_Twelve seconds._

He couldn't do it--he couldn't bring himself to end his life despite the killings he had done, despite the monster he had become, and he slowly, hesitantly placed the pistol back into its holster.

_Fifteen seconds._

He staggered slightly and gazed behind him, for a hand lay gently on his shoulder; he twisted and was met by a pair of bright, topaz eyes.

She smiled and guided him to his feet and he felt as if he was touched by an angel.

They, side by side, slowly walked through all the commotion of the war and stopped at the tents and she pushed him softly into the dark interior.

He lay on the bed as she sat by him, stroking his dark bangs as he struggled to catch his breath.

"Major," she whispered. "Don't think about it. I understand it's hard, sir, but if you don't pay attention you won't hurt as much."

He didn't respond, but instead his hand sought for hers and wouldn't rest until he found it. He breathed a sigh of relief when he did, and then pulled her down. Before she could do anything, her lips were glued down to his. She couldn't help herself as he kissed her passionately and she responded back to him, climbing onto his cot and they lay together, caressing eachother with such desperation that in a matter of minutes they were glazed in sweat, intwined together, breathing heavily.

After some moments, she got up silently and began to dress herself as he watched.

"Riza," he said, and she gave a small start at the sound of her name leaving his lips. "Riza," he repeated, and she turned to face him.

"It hurts," he complained lightly, and she giggled, something she rarely did.

"Imagine me, sir," she said and sat down with him.

He stared at her stupidly, and then his face contorted with guilt. "Oh god, Riza, I'm so sorry."

She laughed a little harder now, taking his hand. "It's ok, Major, I'd do anything to make sure you felt better, to be sure you weren't hurt."

He pulled her close, breathing in the scent of her hair, "That means a lot to me, Riza."

She sniffed into his chest. "I'd die for you, Roy..."

He stiffened at the sound of his name and then relaxed, deciding that he loved the sound of it. He pulled her in for another kiss, but this time it was out of pure affection than need. "Me too, Riza."

And then the both of them, as though they sensed what the other was going to say, whispered simultaneously, "My savior."


	4. Prayer

"I'm gonna get you, Riza!" Roy shouted, and Riza shrieked with joy as she ran back behind a tree. She calmed herself and then peeked around the trunk to find no one there. Riza breathed a sigh of relief and tip-toed as quietly as she could back toward the house.

_"GOTCH'A!"_ Roy cried and lunged for Riza. They toppled to the ground, with Riza under Roy. She giggled and Roy felt her shiver under him.

He relaxed on top of her, nudging his nose in the crook of her neck. This wasn't as odd as it would have been if they had been at least a decade and a half older.

Seven year-old Riza smiled, pushing him off and Roy lay beside her, breathing heavily. She then pushed herself into his arms and they tightened around her. "Mr. Mustang?" she whispered, clinging onto his shirt that screamed, _ALCHEMY!_ "What do you want to do for a living?"

Her question startled him, but he knew how to respond: "I'm going to become a State Alchemist."

She tensed in the eleven year-old's arms and Roy moved them consolingly around her shoulders. "What's wrong?" he asked softly. She glanced up at him but quickly turned away from him. "Riza, Riza, answer me--"

"Father was a State Alchemist, once," she said suddenly. He stared at her. "He said, 'Whatever happened to the Alchemists being thou for the people?'"

"I wonder that too," laughed Roy, poking her in the ribs. She winced and frowned at him. He glared back: "What do _you_ want to do for a living?"

She sighed, burying her face into his shirt. "I don't know," she said quietly, and she was nearly inaudible because her voice was muffled by his torso.

Roy sat up, pulling her into his lap. Then he completely lifted himself off the ground and Riza fell to the dirt.

"Hey!" she screeched, "Mr. Mustang, that wasn't fair!" Even though her father wasn't there, she still abide by his rules to call Roy 'Mr. Mustang.'

"Eh," he shrugged, "Sorry. Hey--can you come help me with my alchemy?"

"I'm no good at alchemy, I don't do it," she said, sounding much too mature for her age.

"Pfft, you're good at math and science, and that's technically all there is to alchemy."

"No."

"Uh huh."

"I'm not helping you, Mr. Mustang."

Roy sighed. "Fine, suit yourself. I'm telling your father you can't have dessert tonight."

"NO!"

He smirked at Riza, who pouted at him. "Please don't tell him, he'll beat me."

"He _BEATS YOU?!_"

The last syllable hung in the air. Before long Riza crashed to the ground and she sobbed into the grass. Roy, horrified by what he did and seething about what Riza's father did to her, knelt by Riza and stroked her back.

"Riza, I'm sorry," he said quietly, feeling deep remorse.

"It's ok," she whispered back, "Just... just don't do it as loud... he could have heard you."

He hugged her close. "Ok."

--------

He heard the weeping from the other room and the cracks of her father's beatings. No matter how hard Roy tried to fall asleep, he couldn't. His heart tore in two as Riza cried out as her father lashed out at her. He hugged his pillow close and whispered, "Please stop this harassment that Riza has to go through..." Roy didn't believe in God, but he tried praying anyway.

The beatings stopped and didn't continue ever again after that night.


	5. Rain

When they were younger, the rain would scare them. It's patterns weren't all that hard to detect and sometimes it was fun listening to it plop onto the roof, but sometimes when they had to go outside, they would beg and beg to stay at home. Sometimes it worked, but most of the time they were dragged around with Hawkeye-Sensei to buy food and such.

When it did work, however, Hawkeye-Sensei would go out by himself and mutter about how irresponsible children were. "Good for nothing short humans," he would say grudgingly.

So while Hawkeye-Sensei was gone Riza and Roy would do whatever they pleased--it usually ranged from playing tag in the house to snuggling up by the warm fire, something that Roy and Riza especially adored doing. They were gleeful when they had times like these.

It was raining outside again today, and Hawkeye-Sensei wanted to go out and buy some more necessary items. Roy clung onto the mantle and Riza slammed her door shut. This was the usual routine they used if they wanted to remain at home; either they would hide until Hawkeye-Sensei would get tired of searching for them, or they would beg to stay at home so they could study. Which was rarely ever true.

"Sensei, no please, Sensei, I wanna practice my alchemy!" wailed Roy as Hawkeye-Sensei would pull his legs. "Mr. Hawkeye, I've been practicing and I have a theory I'd like to test! _Please!"_ Roy would embrace the banister.

Mr. Hawkeye glared at him and let go. "Fine, Roy, but I want to see that theory when I come back. Understood?" He didn't wait for an answer. _"Riza!_ We're leaving!"

"Father, I've got homework to do!" cried Riza from her shut door. "Please, Father, I need to make sure I do everything correct! Please..." she sobbed against the door. Hawkeye-Sensei believed her, but Roy perfectly knew this was fake.

"Fine, fine. I want to see that homework when I come home, Elizabeth, alright?" Once more, he didn't wait for an answer. Without saying goodbye he left and the door crashed shut after him.

Riza hopped out of her room and disappeared in Roy's. Roy was already in there and was waiting for her, smiling.

"Fun time," he smirked and tackled her to the floor.

She rolled out just in time and glared at him. "I actually do have work to do, Mr. Mustang," she said wryly, "Don't you have a theory to test?"

He whined at her. She grinned: "Now help me with this algebra."

"You have _algebra?"_ jaw-dropped Roy, "In FIFTH GRADE?"

"If it's supposed to rain six inches today, and so far it's rained seven, and if _x _is the amount of rain added to the normal prediction, what's _x?" _snickered Riza. "Oh, come on, Mr. Mustang, this is soooooooooo easy!"

He just stared at her. "Erm... _x_ equals one?"

"Great!"

Roy glared at her. "A second grader could do that."

"Not necessarily."

"Pfft."

They sat down together after that, Roy occasionaly showing Riza his theory, making sure it was all perfect.

"You know, that wasn't really algebra."

She frowned at him, "Fine, _pre_-algebra," as she huddled herself against the rim of the bed. He settled his head in her lap and she gazed down at him. The rain tapped dully on the rooftop.

"Dop, dop, dop, doppop, dop, doppop..." said Roy quietly, nestling his face in the warmth of the fire close by. Riza just closed her eyes and they fell asleep, listening the the rain plop down on the old, creaky house.


	6. Fuhrer

Riza wasn't happy with the fact that she became the Furher's personal secretary. In fact, she would rather die than to have that happen to her. But she kept her respect.

Roy wasn't happy with the fact that Riza became the Furher's personal secretary. In fact, he would rather die than to have that happen to her. But he kept his respect.

Pride was very happy with the fact that Riza became the Furher's personal secretary. In fact, he would kill her for information from Colonel Mustang than to torture her. But he kept his respect.

She was walking down to the crowded lunch room for her lunch break when she stumbled into something. She immediately said, "Excuse me," as she bent down to gather her paperwork.

"Lieutenant?" mumbled an extremely familiar, deep voice.

"Colonel?" blinked Riza. "Colonely--sir--" she stuttered for a moment and then threw her hand up in a small, strong salute. "Colonel, sir, how are you?"

"Horrible," he sighed and sat down on a bench, which splinters hurt his bottom immensly. "I'm very close to becoming bankrupt."

Riza sighed and placed her purse on the table, digging throughout the bottom for some money.

"No, no, no," laughed Roy, placing his hand on top of hers. "All you need to do is take some flowers."

"Flowers, sir?"

He smirked. "An old lady gave me some flowers. Actually, _some_ isn't the right word for it..."

Riza just raised her eyebrows and dug through her purse ("What--what--Lieutenant--"), pulled out a pack of money and handed it to him. Roy stared at it for a moment and grimaced. "No thanks, Lieutenant, I have my dignity."

"I think I have to object, sir."

He glared at her. "How do you know I don't have my dignity? I have a lot. I have so much confidence and dignity and self-esteem that it _hurts."_

She stared at him for a little bit and then stood up, pushing herself off the bench. "I have to get back to work, Colonel. Good bye."

Riza walked down through the slow-thinning crowd of people and to the Fuhrer's office.

No, Roy wasn't happy she was the secretary at all.


	7. Piano

"I didn't know you could play the piano, Mr. Mustang."

"It's something we need to know in the Mustang household."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Can you play any other instruments?"

"The flute and the violin."

"Could you... could you play it for me?"

"Which one?"

"The... piano, actually. Just something nice. Maybe... well, something that sounds really calming."

"Hm. Oh, I know..."

His hands flew over the keys of the piano gracerfully, pulling out a beautiful song that warmed her to the point where she felt nothing could freeze her.

"That's... so..._pacifying, _Mr. Mustang."

"I know, that's why I chose it."

"My mother played the piano. She was going to teach me to play it but... she died before she could."

"Oh, Riza, I'm so sorry..."

"That's alright, Mr. Mustang."

Silence.

"Mr. Mustang?"

"Hm?"

"Do you have siblings?"

"Three older sisters... why?"

"I never had any."

"Oh."

"... do they... are they nice?"

"They're fun to be around."

"What did you do with them?"

"Well... don't laugh; they used to dress me up as a girl."

"Wow... r-really?"

"I said _don't laugh!"_

"I'm sorry, Mr. Mustang, but it's very amusing."

"Right."

"Do they know how to play the piano?"

"Yes."

"And... other instruments?"

"Victoria played the cello, Lizzy the viola and Regine the violin."

"That's nice... so your family is a very musical one."

"You could say that."

"Mr. Mustang?"

"Yes?"

"Could you... could you play that song again?"

"... sure, Riza."

"Thank you..."


	8. Names

Three years passed by since they saw eachother.

It was three years--three long, long years.

They were starting to forget eachother's smile, the looks, the voice.

And around the eleventh month of the second year, they forgot the names.

-------

"Maes, shoot!"

"Are you kidding me? I suck at aim!"

"Moron."

"Jerk."

_BANG._

Maes and Roy shot up into the air, looking around for the culprit. They narrowed their eyes at the sound of a rustling bush and Roy cautiously peeked around it.

A young lady was carefully staring at her gun. Her blonde hair was cut short so she was sometimes mistaken as a male. Then, her hands flew around the gun so fast that it was a blur to Roy and his friend.

She glanced up and pointed her gun at them but then saw their military uniforms.

"My apologies, sir," said the lady, "I thought you were the enemy."

"I see," smiled Roy, "this is Captain Maes Hughes, and I'm Major Roy Mustang."

She frowned at him for a moment. "Roy Mustang?"

"Yes."

"I... ah..." she stuttered for a moment, "I'm Cadet Riza Hawkeye."

_"Hawkeye?"_ interrupted Maes, frowning. "Wow, that explains a lot."

Roy stared at her, and then whispered, _"Riza?"_

"Yes, Mr. Mustang, it's me."

He roughly scanned his brain for something to say but lacked any words. He then pulled her into a tight hug.

"God, Riza, it's been so long."

"I know, sir."

Maes continued staring at them.

"I know her from when I was young," said Roy quietly. "She was my Sensei's daughter."

_"Really?"_asked Maes in awe.

"For the last time, Maes, _yes..._" Roy snarled at him.

"You can bunk with us, Cadet," chimed Maes. "Next to _Roy."_

The Major rolled his eyes.

"Well, sure," Riza shrugged, "but as long as you all do your work."

Maes paled and Roy jaw-dropped.

"Oh, lord, no," Roy and Maes said simultaneously.

-----

"This way I won't forget your name again, Mr. Mustang," said Riza, leaning her head against his shoulder in front of the fire. He sighed.

"Me neither, Riza," he whispered back. His eyes swung to Maes in the corner, who snored fakely against his pillow.

They laid down by the warmth of the orange light, her head cradled in his hands and one of her arms thrown against his torso.

It was like that how they fell asleep.


	9. Slap

He stared at her. Of course, every lady he saw would flirt and bat their eyelashes, but not her.

If he would do something right, she would give only the faintest trace of a smile. No laughs, no hugs, and _definitely_ no kisses.

If he did something wrong, there would be but so little reprimanding. She would whip out her pistol and shoot at him for target practice, most bullets flying like eagles over his head. He would then shiver under her desk.

Today, however, he sat with his chin resting lightly on his knuckles, gazing at her. Every once in a while, she would catch him staring at her and shook her head. There wasn't even any yelling at him to do his paperwork.

-----

At the end of the day, he stood up and slowly, quietly crossed over to her desk.

"Lieutenant," he said softly, "No shooting?"

She smiled a small smile. "I realized something, Colonel."

"Oh?" he raised his eyebrows.

"It's no use trying to discipline you with bullets outside of battle, sir," she said brightly.

With that, her hand slapped him on the cheek.

No screaming whatsoever...

"That's what I'll do from now on," she grinned.

He smirked at her and went to go get some ice.

Slaps were better than bullets.


	10. Military Ball

"Lieutenant, there's a military ball coming up."

Riza didn't look up from her work. "Really."

"Yup, says so on the bulletin," Roy replied brightly, perching himself on top of his desk.

"I'm only going with you if you finish your paperwork."

_"Damn," _he muttered, but Riza could still hear him. "How'd you know?"

"It's easy to tell with you, sir," she said, her pen bobbing up and down while she signed.

"Fine, fine, dammit," he said angrily, "I'll do the goddamn paperwork."

"That includes no dates, no cursing, no flirting with other women, no getting drunk, no pranks, and _no kisses."_

"What the hell?!" he stared at her.

Riza frowned at him. "I'm serious, Colonel, none of that."

"Ok, ok, fine," he said as he sat back down and started signing the papers.

-----

She was beautiful. She was so beautiful that he was starting to get a nosebleed. Suddenly realizing what Roy was about to do, Riza frowned at him and Roy stopped.

"You look... exquisite," he said to her, taking her arm.

"Nice choice of words, sir."

"Off duty, no 'sirs' or 'Colonel.'"

"Alright... Roy."

He did a double-take, glancing at her. "Wow, you haven't called me by my first name in ages."

"I haven't."

"Let's go, Riza."

-----

He didn't get drunk, he didn't flirt, accept any dates, didn't do any pranks, didn't curse and didn't kiss. Riza was happy about the overall ball turnout.

"I'm driving you home, Riza," said Roy quietly, sitting in the driver's seat of the car. She sat down beside him.

The ride was quiet and when they reached her apartment the silence was deafening.

"Goodnight, Roy," murmured Riza, blushing just a bit.

He didn't reply, but a second later his lips were pressed on hers, his hands stroking her body as if he were going to be deprived of her soon. She didn't respond for a moment, and started to push him away, but he squeezed into her apartment building and shut the door with his foot. He led her to the bedroom and threw her on the bed.

"Roy, what--" Riza began, but his hands started pulling the zipper for her dress down. She smacked his hands away.

"Roy, I thought I told you not to do that!" she said incredulously.

"First off, we're not at the ball anymore and second, you never said _no sex."_

She glared at him and mentally slapped herself for forgeting to mention that.

"So, I guess..." he said, staring at her critically, "... I win?"

She sighed and gave in to his kiss, telling herself to enjoy this.

She was happy either way.


	11. Beauty

She was doing her best not to scream in horror. In front of her, crumbled against the old, hard, stained floor of King Bradley's mansion was Roy, splattered with blood that just kept coming, most from his face. Riza started running as fast as she could toward her commanding officer, the phantom of hope starting to fade. He seemed... was he even breathing?

Riza stopped in front of him and crashed to the ground, kneeling beside his back, soaked in blood, and started to weep pitifully, cradling herself against his wounded body. She wept and wept and wept, blaming herself for everything that happened and how she failed her superior, her father's apprentice, her friend, her one true love.

Sitting up slowly, she turned his head toward her face and was terrified by the sight that met her. Blood was running down from his left eye socket, staining his handsome face. With no hesitation, she bent her head to his and met his lips with her own, giving him a kiss of true affection.

He gave a sharp breath and Riza shot up, staring at him in desperation. His right eye was open and he was gazing at her, but he seemed on the brink of death. His hand weakly grasped her own and she started to cry again, but this time she was happy, happy that he was still alive.

"Riza," he whispered gently, and his hand shook with effort to stroke her face. "Ri... za... I'm so... so sorry..."

"No," she said, determined. "No, you're not leaving me again, Roy. Got it? You're not leaving me again!"

"Riza," Roy began once more. "Oh god... Riza... I'm sorry... I..."

_"No!" _Riza said firmly and tears cascaded down her cheeks. "You're staying here with me, Roy Mustang! You're going to see the light of day again and you're going to see Havoc, Fuery, Breda, Falman, and Elicia! You're going to beat my grandfather at chess again and you're going to become Fuhrer! _You're going to make sure that Alchemists are thou for the people! You're going to make all female personnel wear tiny miniskirts, dammit!"_ She was sobbing now. _"You're going to live and I'm going to make sure of it!"_

He smiled a faint smile, but his hand tightened around hers with power that she had never felt before. "Oh god, Riza... what am I... what am I going to do... without you...? You're... you're the one who... held on to me... for all these years. You're the... person who helped me through every... every tough time and you're... you're the one I really love."

Riza was certain she had stopped breathing at that point. Then her hands encircled his body, embracing him tight, nudging her face in the crook of his neck. "I'm going to make sure you live, Roy, because I love you too."

He laughed, a laugh full of joy and love, his weak but rich voice filling the cold air around them both. She ripped a part of her brown jacket and wrapped in around his head, making sure his left eye socket was completely covered. Then, with unbelievable strength, she heaved him up and carried him to the stream nearby and splashed the water on him and he gasped at the cold.

His one eye was watching her as she swiftly ripped some leaves off a plant and strung them together with the stems. She then dipped it into the stream and wrapped it around his chest to stop the blood. Then she hugged him against herself to warm him up.

"I'm going to take you to my place, Roy, ok?" she said in his ear and Roy nodded against her shoulder. Riza pulled him off the ground and spent a good thirty minutes carrying him on her back to her apartment.

-----

Riza had sat him down on her bed and, following Roy's plea not to go to the hospital, she treated him on her own. She had sewn a jet black eyepatch for him and tied it to his face. Right now she sat, peeling an apple as he watched her.

"Don't look so gloomy," he told her softly.

She glanced up at him. He was gazing at her with a soft, onyx eye; the eyepatch just rested on his face and the image made her guilt rise.

"Your plan was perfect," Riza began and looked down to the wooden floor. "But because I didn't make it in time..."

"There is no such thing as perfection," Roy interrupted her, and she started to close her eyes in sorrow. "The world itself is imperfect."

Riza glanced at him again to see his hand come forward and toy with her hair.

"That's what makes it so beautiful," he said with love, and Riza's eyes softened. She shoved her fork into an apple slice and placed it into Roy's mouth. He looked at her with a surprised look, but after a moment he started to chew. Black Hayate, who was resting peacefully on the floor, perked up and stared at the two of them. Satisfied with what was happening, the disciplined puppy contently placed his head on his paws and once more began to nap.

"You're right," she told him. "You're absolutely right..."

He laughed. Riza was growing accustomed to that laugh, not one of sarcasm and arrogance but of affection and happiness. "It might just be the only time I actually _am_ right, Riza."

Roy pat the space next to him, motioning for her to lay down. Her eyebrows rose. "I don't think so, Roy," she said. "We're doing something else today. We've been doing _that_ for the past five days in a row, now."

He muttered at her.

-----

Shopping _was _fun, if you were with the right person. It wasn't really clothes shopping, but grocery shopping. Roy didn't mind anyway--he was having the time of his life with Riza.

She bargained merrily with a shopkeeper. Roy loved to hear the sound of her voice, happy and carefree, so different from the military voice she so often used. All of a sudden she turned to smile a bright smile at him.

With a warmth in his heart that nothing else could compete to, he smiled back.

The fact that there is nothing as perfection and that the world was imperfect seemed to fade all around him. The only thing that mattered was the beauty it created.


	12. Dishes

"Man, that was delicious," blurted Roy from the kitchen table. Havoc, Breda, Fuery and Falman all nodded, "Yeah, Lieutenant Hawkeye, absolutely fantastic!"

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," said Riza and lifted herself from the chair. "Make yourselves comfortable; I'll just wash the dishes and you settle down in the living room. I'll be right there to discuss the strategies."

"Sure thing, Hawkeye," said Roy, who had magically appeared beside her. He tapped Riza on the shoulder. "May I have the pleasure of going to the bathroom?"

She stared at him.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said brightly. Roy then scampered down the hall to the tiny bathroom.

"Whoa! I didn't know you had pregnancy testing sticks in here, Lieutenant!" he called loudly from the bathroom. "Do these even _work_? Because, if they do..."

"DON'T EVEN SUGGEST IT, ROY MUSTANG," bellowed Riza.

He didn't respond. Everyone else snickered from the living room.

She gathered all the dirty dishes and placed them in the sink. As she squirted some soap onto the ceramic, a pair of muscular arms encircled her waist.

"So, Riza," Roy whispered in her ear, "Now that we're not in public..."

"Colonel, I would suggest you stop think about it. We're not a _public _couple, we're a _secret_ couple," Riza said quietly, placing the last dish into the cabinet.

He trailed tiny kisses down her jaw to her collarbone. "Oh? We could have a quicky, right here in the kitchen, against the sink, with water all over us, and you needing to go take a shower..."

"Don't think about it, sir. I didn't do it then, and I certainly won't do it now."

He licked her earlobe. "Come on, Riza, right here, right now... stuff of dreams."

"That might be your dream but not mine."

"Say my name, Riza."

"... Roy."

He took a sharp breath in. "I love it when you say my name."

"You sound so perverted," she said dryly.

"Just for you."

Riza rolled her eyes and pushed him away. "Go, we need to talk about the strategies."

He whined at her. "Do we have toooo?"

A glare made him pout and slink into the living room. Everyone in there roared with laughter at his state. Riza hadn't mentioned she was going to give a little shove at his glory spot. He would have to be careful.

"So," said Riza, walking into the living room, "how did you say we were going to _do it_ later, Colonel?"


	13. Best Man

I had never seen this side of my superior officer. His head was bowed and I could see some clear teardrops sliding down his face and plop onto the grass. He kneeled in front of a newly-placed grave and carefully slipped his fingers inside the embedding of the name, _Maes Hughes._

"Maes..." he began, "you... I know I was harsh on you most of the time, but you were my best friend since the academy. I... I'm even missing the pictures that you would fling across the headquarters. Elysia and Gracia would be so happy.

"Have you ever... have you ever seen the Rockbells there, Maes? I want you to pass on the message that I'm sorry. I really am. Winry is growing up to became a beautiful young lady, albeit her temper and her obsession with wrenches. I'm sure Fullmetal would agree.

"God, Maes... I don't know how I _can't _blame myself for what happened. If only I had gotten there in time you wouldn't have died and you would still be here shoving Elysia photos down my throat. I have to admit, she is the most adorable kid I've seen, Maes. I hope I have one like her... if I ever get 'round to getting a wife. You would buy a hundred cameras if you heard I'd be getting married.

"I need to go now, Maes. Lieutena – Riza's waiting for me. I know right now is a bad time to confess, and since she's standing here right behind me, but I need to say it. She probably beats you with the comfort zone. She's the only one that can make me feel better than you can. I love her.

"Bye, Maes... I'll say your greetings to Gracia and Elysia for you. Bye..."

His forehead touched the top of the gravestone as he started quietly sobbing on the granite. I was stunned by his confession of his love toward me. After I had gotten through my shock, I walked up to him and placed my hand on his shoulder.

"Roy," I whispered. "Roy... let's go. I'm sure he heard you."

He stared up at me, his eyes choked with sorrow. I could see the pain and the grief swirling inside of him and I hugged his head to my chest. He sniffed and started to weep again.

"I can't believe he's gone," he said. "I want to see his pictures again..."

"We all do," I told him, stroking his black hair. "Even Edward wants to."

He sniffed again.

"R-Riza?"

"Yes, Roy?" I questioned him.

"Do you... do you love me?" he asked, gazing up at her with haunted eyes.

I hesitated. Then, with a serene, affectionate smile, I said, "Yes, Roy."

He smiled then and pinned himself to my body. I looked up in the rain to the sky and thought, _Yes, Maes... we need a ghost like you down here with us. Roy and I can't have our best man in heaven..._


	14. Portrait & Paint

The paint brush glided smoothly across the cambus. Riza dabbed carefully, placing the last speck of well-placed oil paint on the portrait of _one special person._

When Riza had finished her paperwork she had thought to maybe take a small break from reading romance novels and doing something different. After some house cleaning she had done the night before, Hayate had whined at her feet, pulling a paint-covered small duffel bag. Hayate nudged at her feet and placed his paw on the bag. The paints were from before her father had passed on. In fact, her mother had graced her with a pack of paint when she was two. Delighted, young Riza had dug her fingers into the paint, spreading it on the hardwood floor. Riza's father wasn't happy.

She didn't use the paint at all after her father died.

Now was the time she used it again, when she had love.

"Whoa, Lieutenant... is that... me?" questioned a voice from behind her, and Riza flung around, gripping her pistol so tight that her knuckles turned ash white.

Upon realizing that this was her commanding officer, Riza calmed down a bit, placing her gun back into its holster. "Sorry, sir," she apologized, titling her head slightly to the ground. Fingering the small paint brush back into the tiny water bucket, she continued in a shy, hesitant voice, "I... yes, Colonel, that's you."

"And one hell of a me!" Roy exclaimed. "I look like Hell's Angel!"

He silenced for a small moment, and then churned his head to her direction, his onyx eyes glinting dangerously. "Why, Hawkeye... I didn't know you could paint like this. Am I this special to you?"

The First Lieutenant stuttered shamelessly, not one to be out of answers. "I'm... I'm sorry, _Roy_, but why does it matter? Do you honestly think that I would like to be taken advantage from you, Roy Mustang, Amestria's most popular Playboy? I _don't think so, _Colonel."

He was shocked. That was the only word that could put his emotion to work. "I didn't mean that, Riza... I--"

"Don't, Mustang Moron! I don't want to be like those other women to you!"

"But Riza--"

"SHUT IT, COLONEL CRAP! I WANT TO BE SOMETHING TO YOU!"

_Snap._

"_You ARE something to me, Riza! GET IT THROUGH YOUR STUBBORN HEAD!"_ Roy bellowed at her. Flames encircled him angrily, as if they were going to lunge and wrap Riza amongst their death-like flames.

With a cry she bent her head on his chest and sobbed helplessly on his uniform.

"It's pretty," Roy murmured into her ear. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Are you sure?" Riza asked him.

"Positive," he assured her, "I'm taking it home, if you don't mind, and hanging it in my bedroom... I'd like you to sign it."

Riza signed her name on the corner of the painting with a flourish.

"Thank you," he said, and kissed her on the cheek.


	15. Seduction

"I like that in a man," said Lust, and the corners of her mouth tilted upward. She took hold of Roy's chin and caressed it. "I'd love to live and see your eyes become tormented with guilt and sufferation."

Riza, held back by the wall Alphonse had created, was shaking with rage. The First Lieutenant started toward the edge of the wall when Alphonse grabbed her arm. "No, Lieutenant, let him be--this is what he wanted."

"This is not what he wanted!" Riza whispered furiously, "To be seduced by this--this horrible _thing_ is a crime! A sin, if you must!"

"I know what he's doing," said Alphonse sadly, "as I have done it, too."

Riza slowly came to an understanding of what he was saying, but it didn't help her. She leaned against the wall and scowled at Lust.

Lust caught her eyes and smiled maliciously. "Or... I could live," she said slowly, pretending to ponder the thought, "and I could... oh, we would be nice together, don't you think, Roy?"

Roy was about to agree delightedly when he saw his subordinate sink to the ground, weeping pitifully. Remembering that this _Lust _was a temptation and duh! a Homonculus, Roy swiftly snapped in her face.

"I don't think so," he sneered at her. "I think you're an idiotic creature who is looking for people to humiliate. Kill, rather!"

Lust laughed. "Oh, so you didn't fall into my trap," she said, "I'm glad."

As fast as a bolt of lightening, her nails lenghthened and struck Riza below her diaphram.

Riza did not scream. Riza could not scream. Riza could only have a tear drip from her eye and onto her gun that had fallen out of her sturdy hands. Her head crashed to the floor, her eyes wide open, her lips mouthing, "Roy..."

Alphonse dropped next to her and screamed, "LIEUTENANT! LIEUTENANT HAWKEYE!"

"You... you... you killed her," said Roy, almost inaudibly. And then, as if suddenly seeing what had happened, his hands strung against Lust's neck. "YOU KILLED HER!"

Lust laughed again, but because her air supply was limited, it was stuffy. Her hands raised in imitation of the infamous Homonculus, Greed. "If you had agreed that wouldn't have happened."

Roy shook his head, silent tears falling from his onyx eyes. "No," he said quietly so that only Lust could hear, "My heart belongs to Riza. It would never belong to you."

Lust feigned looking hurt. "Oh, how I'm heartbroken!"

"Don't pretend, creature!"

She snickered at him.

"Get away from Colonel Bastard!" shrieked a voice. Roy, stunned and puzzled, turned around swiftly to see Edward emerging from a wall. 

"Fullmetal, how nice to see you," Roy said desperately, "Can you--can you take care of this thing?" he grit his teeth, motioning to Lust, who sat and examined her nails.

Alphonse shot to Edward like a bullet. "Brother!" he said. "I'll help you to kill her."

Edward smirked at Roy. "I think you should go take care of your Lieutenant Love," he said smartly. "For all I know, she could still be alive."

Hope sparked within Roy. "Thanks, shrimp," he called, already gathering Riza into his arms.

Ed could be seen turning red.

"R-roy?" coughed Riza. Blood pooled from her mouth and spilled along Roy's tattered military uniform.

His eyes widened. "You're alive!"

"Not for long, I won't be," she croaked at him, grinning. "I failed you, sir..."

_"Don't say that!"_ Roy said fiercely, "You're going to live, do you hear me?"

She nodded weakly.

"Good," he said. Then, his lips merged onto hers, tasting her blood and her scent.


	16. Seduction, Part 2

The injured Lieutenant coughed in her makeshift bed. Wincing, she rubbed her abdomen.

"You're lucky you can still have children," said Roy, watching her. She flicked her eyes up at him and he blushed, wary from the kiss the day before.

Riza smiled at him and tried to sit up, but it was done so with pain-filled groans. When she finally rested herself upon the wooden, slated walls of a mysterious doctor, she took her hand in his, rubbing it gently.

"R-Riza?" Roy inquired cautiously, glancing at her.

"Thank you, sir," she said. Her eyes sparkled with content as she continued fiddling with his hand. Roy relaxed, deciding that it was ok to let her on. Why was he all tense, anyway? It wasn't like him: usually it was Riza herself who would abide by the strict fraternization rules of the Amestrian Military, not him.

She slowly pulled him into a sweet, passioned kiss.

A pair of violet eyes beyond the door seemed to smile sadly.

"I'm happy for both of you," said the woman softly. "If only I were human, I would have a love of my own."

Lust walked down the house and into the rain.


	17. Unsafe

I didn't actually expect it to be true.

When she had said she was transferring, I thought she was kidding. I mean, she swore to be my aid, right? She said she would protect me at all costs, but... I don't know what made her transfer like this.

She's working at West now. It's a long way off from here. I still have Havoc, Breda, Falman and Fuery but I need _her._ She's the only person who could make sure I stood in line, make sure I'd do paperwork... and make sure I'd get my goal. But she's not here now.

The others don't know yet. When they'd asked where she had gone, I had quietly mumbled I gave her vacation and she took advantage of it. For some reason, they accepted it and didn't ask me again. However, I still think they expect her to come back and work with me and the rest.

I'd looked up who she was working under. I was expecting a man, of course, but I wasn't happy with the results. The name, _Colonel Envi Homsolus, _struck something inside me.

She wasn't safe. I was going to go after her, even if she didn't want me to.

That was what hurt so much.


	18. Unsafe, Part 2

As I placed my share of finished paperwork on my desk, my new Colonel sauntered up to me.

"Sir!" I exclaimed angrily as he picked up my paperwork and tore it. "All due respect, sir, but that was--"

"I don't care how it was," spat the colonel, "as long as you follow orders."

I grit my teeth together and focused on cleaning my pistol. My hands worked professionally and diligently in the task they were determined to accomplish while my mind wandered to my old commanding officer.

I didn't get to linger on the thought long, though, because suddenly Colonel Homsolus whispered beside my ear, "Lieutenant, won't you come and shoot me? I'm not doing my work."

I closed my eyes and continued cleaning my gun.

All of a sudden, I felt pain in under my diaphram. Why did it seem that I was always being hit there? Were people this annoyed of me to try and make me inable to have children? "S-sir?" I coughed painfully. "W-what--"

His hands caressed my chin. "Oh, my dear Riza," said Homsolus scathingly, "Don't you realize? My name should have given it out, love."

My eyes widened in sudden comprehension. With whatever energy I had I loaded my gun and shot at him weakly in the forehead. He screamed in pain but then smirked, reminding me of my own forgotten love. The fake colonel's cold, hard hands took my arms and wrapped them around his neck. I struggled for the upper hand but was too weak to do so. His lips molded onto mine but I screamed with no strength at all into his mouth.

I tried pushing him away and my hands folded themselved into his green, spiked hair that was tied into a ponytail. However, he pushed himself closer to me and tore off my clothes in attempt to--

"WHAT THE FUCKING HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"

My eyes, despite the pain and the tired feeling in my body, widened to a point where they could no more and stared at the figure who entered.

My mouth tore from the Homonculus' mouth. "Ro... Roy?"

Roy crossed over to me and clamped his hand around Envy's collar, pulling him away from me. "You," he whispered, shaking with internal rage, "You_monster!"_

Envy laughed. "What good would it do to kill me now? Your girlfriend's dying, retard."

I couldn't see Roy's glare but I knew he was doing it. As I started to fade into unconsciousness, I heard a _snap! _and then the words "I love you" being murmured against my lips. Roy crushed his mouth to mine as my world went black.

* * *

_Light... where... why can't I...?_

**Dark.**

_It's so painful... I just want to go back to sleep..._

**Recognition.**

_I don't want to go back..._

**Death.**

_What is there in the world to live for?_

**Love.**

_I never thought I'd... _

**Family.**

_... what happened?_

**Friends.**

_I knew something was wrong..._

**Serenity.**

_I just need peace now..._

**Need.**

_... to see..._

**Trust.**

_... to hear..._

**Hope.**

_... to smell..._

**Grief.**

_... to taste..._

**Belief.**

_... to touch.. to love... to breathe once more..._

"... to live..."

My eyes opened to the blinding light of Amestris.

_"Riza!"_

I turned to the voice I so commonly heard before. "Sir--?" I coughed violently, blood gushing from my mouth. Roy, who sat by my bed, quickly situated his hands around me and inquired in a panicked tone, "Riza, are you ok?"

"Y-yes, sir," I sputtered, blood staining my lips. He carefully ran his finger across my mouth to rid it of the blood, and then flushed with embarrasment at his actions. I smiled.

"I'll be... fine, Colonel," I assured him.

He gazed at me, grief-stricken. "I need to see myself that you're ok."

"Sir--"

Roy shook his head at me. "This is the second time you got hit there. I need to make sure you can have children."

_Oh my... _I thought. A tyrannic look crossed my features. "Children!" I exclaimed loudly, my eyes widening with tears. "Childen..."

"They don't know if you can get pregnant," Roy murmured, his eyes glued to the floor. "I'm sorry, Riza..."

I just closed my eyes again.

* * *

"Colonel Mustang."

"Ahh... yes, Doctor?"

"I need to speak with you."

"Yes... uh, yes."

"I have good news... and bad."

"Good news first, Doctor, please..."

"She can still have children, by some sort of miracle. She shouldn't... but she can."

"I... I feel like actually believing in God at the moment..."

"I think you should, sir, because..."

"Yes, Doctor?"

"The bad news: the thing she was stabbed with carried poison."

"P-poison?!"

"Yes. I'm sorry, Colonel Mustang."

He crashed to the ground. "Can you... can you cure it?"

The doctor glanced at him critically. "I don't know what poison," said the doctor sadly.

"No... no... how... how long?"

"Around two more hours, sir."

"No, no, no... NO!"

* * *

I couldn't believe it.

I was still alive, even past two hours. I think they cured me.

I don't know how, but I was happy.

"It was phytorical poison," Roy had whispered on my lips, before he kissed me.

I wasn't going to even ask what phytorical poison was, particularly I don't think it existed. I was just happy to be alive.

Even if I didn't want him to, he saved me at the most critical time.

When I was unsafe.

_I'm just happy..._

**Family.**

_... to be..._

**Friends.**

_... alive..._

**Love.**


	19. Snowed In

There was nothing but white covering the window. The blizzard winds howled ferociously from outside Mr. Hawkeye's torn, beat up house. Gripping his mug tightly, Roy sighed and leaned back into the small, cushioned armchair.

"Mr. Mustang?" a small voice asked from behind him. Roy didn't bother turning around. He knew who it was. Roy raised his hand in the air, motioned lazily to the kettle and settled back down, dozing on and off.

The small, curved figure nodded and made her way toward the stove to make some more coffee. They had taken a liking to it.

After a few, silent moments Riza quietly walked back to Roy and handed him another mug of coffee. He took one sip, grinned at her and said smugly, "Always knew how I liked it, huh, Riza?"

Riza shrugged at him and sat herself on the chair, squeezing herself next to Roy and placed her head on his shoulder. "I have to get out and get some more firewood soon," she whispered, snuggling up beside him.

Roy chuckled and shook his head. "If only I knew the secret to Flame Alchemy right now, I would've been able to light a fire and we would've been warm."

"You know Father wouldn't allow you to find the secret out so easily, Mr. Mustang," she stated. Twisting her head, she met his gaze and smiled. He ruffled her short hair. "Too bad school is out today."

"You wouldn't want to go to school anyway."

"Touché, my dear, touché," Roy murmured.

They were both mature enough, now. Roy was a strong, seventeen-year-old young man with a handsome face many women would die for. However, he still had that slight look in his features that he seemed as if he were eight. Riza had seen him many times shirtless, and even more completely naked. He didn't care, and neither did she. Riza could say that she thought he looked extremely 'sexy', yes, but she kept her mouth shut.

On the other hand, Riza was fourteen and smart. Very smart. She had excellent accuracy with anything she did. True, she acted like a boy many times but her beautiful face betrayed that thought. Roy, too, had seen her naked. He had gotten so many strong feelings then but he ignored them. She was gorgeous, he would say. He had told her that many times. He had seen that array on her back and knew it was the secret to Flame Alchemy, and Riza knew he saw it, but he never bothered memorizing it.

They had kissed a few times in secret, some just regular kisses on the lips, others they raged passionately beyond control. Neither of them were embarrassed to have been seen naked. In fact, they sometimes just laid on the bed together, smiling and murmuring little things about life, both of them with no clothes on... just a blanket.

Now, as they sat together on that small armchair, drinking their coffee, everything was nice and quiet, other than the fierce winds outside, billowing the snow all around.

"Roy?" Riza inquired. Roy smiled. He loved it when he heard his name leaving her lips like that. The bad thing was, she could only say it in private.

"Yes, Riza?" Roy replied.

"Have you ever thought about the other women out there?" Riza asked, but not without hesitation. Reluctantly, she questioned, "Have you ever... slept with any of them?"

Roy's smile fell drastically and he lowered his gaze. "I... I..." he stuttered, not meeting her eyes.

Riza turned away from him and huddled against the chair's edge. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I shouldn't have asked. It's not my business knowing who you're with."

"Riza..." Roy trailed sadly, and his hand came to rest on her shoulder. She didn't flinch, but she inhaled sharply. He sighed and ran his other hand through his hair. "Riza... I'm sorry..."

"No, it's ok," said the young woman. She turned around to face him. "All the other women out there are so beautiful and delicate, but I'm not, so I shouldn't be surprised. I'm like a boy." Her eyes focused on the creaky, wooden floor.

He sighed, pulled her toward him and stroked her soft, golden hair. He couldn't believe she thought that. "Riza," he began, "How could you think that?"

She sniffed into his chest. Roy could feel the tears soak into his sweater. He grasped her chin and lifted it up to see her wide, vulnerable, copper eyes gaze grief-stricken at his own. "You're the most beautiful young woman I have ever laid my eyes on, Riza," he murmured. His hot breath tickled Riza's lips and she shuddered. Soon, after that, his lips caught hers and his strong hands caressed her face.

He gently placed his mug and hers onto the old, splintered coffee table and picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. Her arms snaked their way around his neck. One of his hands pressed against the back of her head, the other on the small of her back. He stood up carefully and made his way to his room, his lips still molded around Riza's and their tongues twirling around eachother desperately. Kicking his bedroom door open, he squeezed himself and Riza inside and shut the door with his back.

He lowered himself onto the small, full-sized bed and placed her under him. Slowly, he broke the kiss and rested himself upon her neck, breathing heavily with Riza. He raised his head and placed his forehead against hers, gazing at her, still panting for air. He smirked and Riza laughed. The tears still streaked her face, but they were dry now. He licked them off anyway.

"Roy!" she exclaimed, pushing him off.

"At least you're happy now," he replied, settling down next to her. She scowled playfully at him. "Don't remind me."

He placed his lips onto hers once more, running his tongue along hers and she moaned into his mouth. They continued to remain lip-locked until Roy twisted his lips from hers. However, he then lowered his mouth in the crook of her neck, biting and sucking gently. Riza whimpered and tilted her neck further, allowing him more access to her soft neck.

Breaking away, Roy lay his head on his pillow and Riza settled herself on top of him.

They dozed off like that.

* * *

Roy woke up to a darkness in his room. The snow blocked out all light. Roy could still hear the blizzard howling maliciously outside the house. Riza snuggled up next to him. Her eyes were open and she surveyed the room. Roy sat up and rested himself against the wall. Riza placed herself on his lap and leaned back into his embrace.

"It's a good thing we're snowed in," said Roy.

"Really snowed in," Riza added. "The snow probably reaches the rooftop. We even have enough food here to probably last us a month."

"How helpful that your father buys so much food," Roy muttered.

"We usually end up almost bankrupt after that," Riza giggled, closing her eyes.

"And it's a good thing we're snowed in, because your father isn't home," said Roy, stroking her hair.

She laughed. "And we can do anything we want."


	20. Hair

Riza's eyebrows rose when she saw her commanding officer twirl a finger around his growing hair. It was almost shoulder length.

"I really need to find a good hair stylist," Roy announce in front of everyone. "Anyone here know how to cut some hair?"

Riza could be seen shrinking back behind her paperwork. She could feel his eyes on her; dreading what would happen if Roy were to have her cut his hair, she snatched up a pen and started reading Edward's report.

"Oh, oh, Colonel!" squeaked a female voice from the back. "I worked in a beauty shop, once!"

"Excellent," smiled Roy, clapping his hands together. "I'll come by your place seven tonight, that good?"

"Fantastic, I'm always free then," said the woman, who Riza suddenly recognized as Hannah. "See you, sir!"

With that, the large crowd disappeared.

Roy grinned at Havoc and sat down, tweaking his chair around every once in a while. Havoc frowned at him.

"I apparently have a date tonight," Roy boasted.

Riza closed her eyes and sighed.

* * *

"SIR!" Riza gasped, opening the door further. "Sir, what _happened?"_

"Turns out she used to work as an apprentice in a beauty shop," Roy shuddered. "Can you fix this hell of a mess?"

Eyeing his disastrous hair, Riza shook her head and grabbed a pair of scissors. "Sit," she commanded. "I'll help you out."

"Thanks, Hawkeye," Roy said. He settled down on a kitchen stool and patiently sat, waiting for Riza to get ready.

"I never thought you worked in a beauty shop, Lieutenant," he said loudly.

"I didn't," she replied, her fingers expertly weaving through his hair. "I had to learn how to cut my father's hair when I was younger."

"So it was a talent you needed."

"You could say that, sir." She sprayed some water.

Twenty minutes later, his hair was in perfect shape. It sparkled in appreciation and Riza smiled.

"It's fantastic, Riza, thank you," Roy informed her. His hand laid on her shoulder.

"You're welcome," Riza blushed. Before she knew what had happened, Roy placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

When he left, Riza decided not to clean up for the night--which was a first--and to reminisce the kiss.


	21. Coffee

I couldn't remember the last time I felt more comfortable.

My lieutenant sat by me in the lunch room. My coffee sat, still, in my large mug. Havoc was playing poker with Breda, Falman and Fuery. Hayate was jumping all around, particularly under my legs; I think he wanted to play with me.

Riza, who I'd come to love in the past few weeks, smiled at me. Her soft, creamy copper eyes gazed at my own midnight ones; I grinned back at her, but without the trademark arrogance and the smirk. It was just like who I was without the competition--gentle and affectionate. I smiled out at her with all the love I could.

Our hands clasped together under the table, with only us too able to see it--with the exception of little Black Hayate. He sniffed my hand under the table and licked it, proceeding to do the same thing to his 'mommy.' The others seemed oblivious to our small gesture; with the advantage of their distraction, I pushed my foot against her leg. With reluctance (because of Havoc, Breda, Falman and Fuery) she pushed her foot back.

Riza took my coffee cup. I thought she was going to go refill it, but instead she took a large gulp and put it on the ground. Hayate, who's paws had attached to Riza's military pants (I tried very much to get her in a miniskirt, but alas, she shot at me), dove into the mug and licked it all up.

I leaned over casually, reaching over to get a strawberry scone so as to no one figures out what's going on. "What if I still wanted to use my cup, Lieutenant?" I whispered to her as I passed by. "I don't think I want to drink out of a mug that's been licked at."

"All due respect, sir," said Riza, smoothing out her military blouse. "But you only have three mug-fulls at lunch break. You already had three mug-fulls. Don't you think you've had enough?"

I straightened back up, taking a bite from the scone. "I'm still thirsty," I whined at her. "I want my coffee."

She rolled her eyes and positioned herself closer. Then, Riza looked around, as though to see that no one was watching. Satisfied, she turned back to him and gave him a full French kiss.

Pulling away, she pat her hair. "I don't think you'd be thirsty any more, would you, Colonel?"

I stuttered for a moment. "N-no, Lieutenant Hawkeye, I think I'm fine now," I murmured. "That was... uh... some good coffee." At this point, my confidence returned. "I'd like a lot more of that kind tomorrow."

She narrowed her eyes, but decided to play along. "Really? Then if you finish all of your paperwork, then maybe you'll get that coffee."

I glared at her. "And if I don't?"

"No playtime for you."

I didn't notice that Havoc, Breda, Falman and Fuery had stopped their game and were watching us when she said that. "No... awww, dammit, Hawkeye, playtime's fun!"

"We'll see how fun it is when you're strapped to the bed tomorrow night. Suspense for you is, apparently, deadly."

_Cough, cough._

I whipped around to see Havoc and Breda with a bleeding nose. Falman and Fuery were slightly more mature, but they were pale and hastily shoved their cards onto the table.

"THREE OF A KIND!" Falman yelled.

"ROYAL FLUSH!" Fuery shrieked, terrified.

"HOLY SHIT, WHAT?!" everyone (except Riza and I) shouted at him.

"Hold on," Havoc said suddenly. "Colonel, what does she mean by 'playtime?'"

"By playtime, she means... um..." I said, flushing horribly.

"Movie time," Riza interrupted. "The Colonel likes to watch movies every night. Whenever he gets to a suspenseful part, he grabs the remote and fast-forwards. That's why, if he doesn't do his paperwork tomorrow, he won't get that special coffee he likes so much and he gets strapped to the bed with no remote and a very scary movie to watch."

I stared at her, completely at a loss as to how she lied so quickly.

"Oh," the others said. Hayate yipped at them and swiped his paws at the cards and chips on the table. They quickly scattered on the floor with a clatter, and the others cursed as they scrambled to collect it.

I took this moment to place a hard, firm kiss on my lieutenant's lips.

"We'll see what happens tomorrow when I don't do my paperwork," I muttered on her mouth, breathing into her. "We'll see what happens at playtime tomorrow night, Riza... advantage equals mine."

With the satisfaction of her eyes widening and the corners of her mouth quirking upward, I grabbed my coffee cup and threw it into the sink, walking out the door, hearing the porcelain shatter, the sound of it ringing in my ears.


	22. Wait

I stared at him as he caressed a face that wasn't mine, murmured little sweet nothings into the ear of the beauty and placed his hand gently on the small of her back. I knew he just had to do this to keep up his 'Playboy' reputation, but it still hurt me... a lot. His eyes caught mine and I took a sharp intake of air, gazing at him.

He winked at me, a sure sign of what would happen later. He slowly pushed his date forward to the restaraunt, but his eyes held onto mine, and his lips formed the words, 'Wait for me.'

I would wait, no matter how long it took.


	23. Wait, Part 2

I was on my bed when my apartment door opened. I knew who it was; I didn't need any indication.

My ears picked up the sounds of his light footsteps in the hall, and my bedroom door creaked open. Roy carefully took off his shoes and placed them inside my room, closing and locking my bedroom door behind him. My eyes opened to gaze at his forlorn, somber face; it was like any other night, when he came to me from dates from other women. I clasped my hand around his and pulled him to the bed, without letting him take off his military jacket.

"How'd it go?" I asked tentatively, leaning into his welcoming embrace. His warm breath made me shiver and he breathed, "Same as usual... we did whatever form of entertainment, went to her house and she wanted to show me how to have _fun._"

"You refused, though, right?" I murmured into his neck. He nodded. Stroking my hair, he pressed small kisses into my neck.

It would happen every night; he going off to dates, refusing to stay over, and then come seek my company in my dark, dull apartment. I tilted my head to allow him better access, and soon, just like every other night, he placed fervent kisses on my lips, groping and caressing every part of my body he could get his hands on.

This was what waited for me every night; even though he went out, he always came back, and even though he went with others, his heart, body and soul belonged to me, and me only. How do I know? Because I am just like him. Because with him, I feel complete. And I know, that even though he goes out, he will always come back, and it would be worth the wait.


	24. Eternity

She tilted her head back to the aggressive rain, pounding her hands hysterically on the door, her lips mouthing the name, 'Roy.' She pulsed quickly on the wood, knocking with an insane look haunting her usually sweet, honey eyes. She couldn't get herself to grasp the fact that he wasn't there; he'd been gone since Archer had revealed their fraternization.

"ROY!" she shrieked into the depths of the twilight sky, the rain pouring--digging--scratching through her back, "ROY!"

Finally, the door gave in to her fierce fists, splitting into small, tiny fragments of wood. She stumbled inside, absolute hysteria taking her over. With wide, frightened eyes, she looked around, almost expecting to see him right there, coming over to her like he always would, embrace her tightly in his secure arms, murmur sweet nothings into her ear until she would calm down.

Now...

Now he wasn't there to console her when she needed it most. Finally, she clasped onto reality, kneeling down on the floor, the heavy tears mixing with the drops of cold rain; they plopped down harshly on his wooden floor. 

She could stand it no longer. Insanity took control and she could see Archer mocking her childishly, and she pulled out her pistol, shooting with a crazy, laughing grin on her face, watching the image of Archer sputter and die in front of her, the bullets punching through the walls of the house.

But Roy's blood was still on the floor, unwashed. The floors weren't clean. They weren't sparkling like they used to.

"Why aren't you HERE?!" she roared in frustration, shooting all around her frantically. First was her mother, who had died in a tragic accident; then her father, killed by a sickness; then Maes, murdered by the Homonculi; then Edward, who she'd come to love as if he were her own child, had left for the other world; and then Alphonse had, too, followed his brother... and now... Roy was gone, killed by 'comrades' who thought that using barbarian methods to murder was best to use on him.

She was crying terribly now, her tears mixing with the blood molecules on the floor. Her pistol slipped through her sturdy hands and toppled to the floor, the sound of it ringing through the house.

She stood up once more, unshed tears shining in her eyes as she struggled to hold them. She wandered into his bedroom, where she was met by the sight of his bloody, sword-struck being, his lifeless eyes gazing up at her hauntingly. She knelt down beside him, stroking his face as the blood mingled with her tears.

Suddenly, there was a warm presence on her shoulder; comfortingly warm. Her hand instantly went to try to find the source of the warmth. She wasn't used to warm any more--she was cold, numb, and afraid. Afraid to lose someone else... if there was.

Her hand felt another. Her head slowly turned and saw him, in a blinding white light, smiling sadly at her. He knelt down beside her and kissed her forehead. She couldn't understand how--she could feel the kiss perfectly.

"I'm sorry," he murmured in her ear. "It shouldn't have happened."

"You didn't deserve it," she sobbed back, and his hands strung their way around her. She leaned into his embrace. "I should have been the one--I was supposed to protect you--and I--"

"No," he hushed her. "Don't. Don't say it. It was fantastic while it lasted."

She wept openly on his shoulder as he ran his fingers through her hair. "How...?"

"You, Riza."

She stared open-mouthed, mortified, and whispered, "Me?"

He nodded softly, smiling at her. "You're keeping me alive, Riza. I'm living right here," he paused, placing his hand directly over her heart for emphasis, "with you, always with you."

The tears were starting to dry up on her cheeks. She smiled, her eyes bloodshot. "You'll always be with me?"

"For eternity," he replied without hesitation, squeezing her tightly. She sniffed into her shoulder. She had gotten used to the warmth now. The light wasn't bothering her at all, either.

It helped her, giving her strength she never thought she could have anymore. "I can always see you, then?"

"You can always see me."

She started sobbing once more into his glowing torso, the dead body on the bed of not risk of taunting her any longer. He would always be at her side, for eternity, no matter what happened.

Once more, he whispered as he rocked her side to side, "For eternity."


	25. Smile

She could feel his eyes on her, wandering over her body, and all of a sudden, she felt extremely hot. Her palms started to sweat as she handed the stack of books to her father's apprentice, and her heart thumped in her throat. She jumped slightly at the contact of their fingers brushing and flushed like a young school girl, avoiding his eyes. Why was she so nervous?

"Thank you, Miss Hawkeye," Roy said, taking the books from her and smiling appreciatively. He sat them on his desk, switched on the light and opened to the first page of _The Practice of Alchemy._ Riza nodded at his back and rested herself on the sofa, pulled up the dot-speckled blanket and gazed out the window, trying desperately not to think about the young man who sat across the room, diligently working on his assignment. They had known each other for more than ten years and had grown to spending time together enormously, becoming the best of friends. This, however, was the first time she had felt caught up with him. Maybe those romance books she had read had become a life story herself. Glancing over at Roy, she shifted uncomfortably and situated herself on her side, facing away from the sofa. Her eyes wandered up and down across his chair and his breathing became a natural beat for her. Closing her eyes and losing herself to the warmth that radiated from him all the way across the room, she breathed in... and out... and in... and out... 

Her even breathing made Roy turn to look at her and his eyes softened. Riza's eyes were closed and she looked so innocent sleeping there. He smiled gently, stood up and moved toward her, his eyes resting on her young face. Roy kneeled down and caressed her face, pulled up the soft planket and smoothed it out across her petite body. The young apprentice gazed at her and then placed his lips on her hair and murmured, "Sleep well, Riza."

He saw a small smile grace her lips.


	26. Trust

He was the only one she could really trust. Childish or not, he was loyal to her as she was to him, and they had stuck together through the cheers and the grief, through the agony and the rage. She couldn't even talk to Havoc that way that she could to _him,_ and she hated herself for it, but it was for the best. She didn't know how she'd come to love him, because all she knew he was an increasing pain to take care of, but she figured it was because he had always taken care of her when they were younger, when her father had died. She was grateful to him for that.

* * *

She was the only one he could really trust. Emotionless or not, she was loyal to him as he was to her, and they had stuck together through the cheers and the grief, through the agony and the rage. He couldn't even talk to Hughes that way that he could to _her,_ and he hated himself for it, but it was for the best. He didn't know how he'd come to love her, because she had always been so serious that it killed him, but he figured it was because she had always taken care of him through his worst times, during the war in Ishbal. He was grateful to her for that.


	27. Talk

"Fullmetal."

Edward glanced up in annoyance. "For the last time, Colonel, what do you WANT?"

Mustang smirked and held out his tea cup. "Some tea, obviously."

"You just had some!"

The colonel shrugged and held out the cup again.

"You didn't harass Lieutenant Hawkeye like this, did you?" Edward shot at him. Mustang flinched. He put his cup down. "No, of course not," said Mustang, glancing at Edward, "I would never do that."

"But you would harass me."

"Right."

"Bastard."

It was silent for a while, and then Edward took Mustang's tea cup. "Hawkeye's a touchy subject right now, Edward," Mustang said quietly, eyeing the young man, "In fact, all of my subordinates are a touchy subject. Even you."

"The fact that they've been moved is bothering you, isn't it?" Edward questioned.

Mustang nodded, swivelling around in his chair. "And you, too, are always gone."

"At least Hawkeye is still here in Central."

Mustang tensed up, and said: "Yes, Edward, I'm happy that she's still in Central. Ha--Riza... Riza is very important to me."

Edward's eyes softened. "You love her."

The colonel sighed, and his eyes drifted to a picture on his windowsill. As he gazed at himself and Hawkeye, he murmured, just barely audible, "I love her."


	28. To Lead a War

She walks in and I cannot take my dark eyes off of her. She's a beauty and I can't help but smile as her dazzling topaz eyes come to rest on me.

"Morning, Lieutenant," I tell her. She nods back at me. Even in military uniform she's as lovely as ever.

"Sir," she says, saluting. "There's a letter for you."

I grin. I never really had a letter before. Well, I did, but this must be urgent if my first lieutenant comes to tell me about it. "From who?" I ask curiously.

"The Fuhrer, sir." Her hands tremble quite a bit as she sticks them into her pockets, searching for the parchment. Evidently I let surprise show on my face, because she mumbles, "It... shouldn't be bad, sir. It could be a promotion offer."

I eye her critically, and her cool and collected demeanor flickers for half a second. As I pull the letter toward me she takes in a sharp breath.

"Are you," I begin, frowning, "okay, Hawkeye?"

"I'm fine," she retorts harshly. Then she presses her mouth to her hand, eyes widening. We're lucky none of the other men are here at the moment. "I apologize, Colonel," she whispers, looking down, "for telling you off like that. You had every right."

"First Lieutenant Hawkeye." I rise up and walk to her. She looks at me, dazed, as I come to rest in front of her. "I have no right to burst in your personal bubble. You were right to retaliate as so." I glance down at her, and I'm shocked to see tears spilling down and trickling onto her lap.

"Riza," I murmur gently. "It is not of my decision to make you tell me what is going on. It is yours. If you choose not to I have nothing to say." I caress her cheek and she sniffles.

"I want to," Riza croaks, and I pull her to my chest. Her voice is muffled as she continues. "I want to, but I believe you should read the letter, first."

"Have you looked at it?"

"I have recieved a similar letter, sir."

I hold her against me as I open the letter, and my eyes widen as I read, and my face pales further after each word that my eyes cross. "I..."

Her moist cheeks shine as she smiles wistfully. "We can't do anything about it."

"To start another war like this," I say desperately, "is purely illogical. Surely there is a different solution than to have me lead an army into an unnecessary rebellion--"

She shakes her head. "Fuhrer's orders. I am to help you lead the war against Xing."

"Has he done this deliberately?" I growl. "Just because he knows my family is Xingese? Just so that--so that he can--"

"I know, sir," I hear her say. "It's unethical. However we must deal with it until Bradley is removed from office. We leave tomorrow morning..."

"Riza..."

"I'll help you," she assures me, and the tears pour down her face again. "I'll adhere to you and make certain that all will go well."

I nod. My good mood from the morning has suddenly vanished. "Let's go," I mutter, almost incomprehensible. She leans into me as we walk into our Hell--into to the world outside of ours.


	29. Revealed

_Christopher Hawkeye, 48_

_The Flame._

I knelt down to trace the engravings of Hawkeye-Sensei. Drops of water delicately trickled on Riza's cheeks as she turned away from me, gazing up at the sky. I looked up at her, a wistful smile coming to rest on my lips.

"Miss Riza." My voice was low and she jumped slightly at my tone. I saw her body tremble just a bit and my eyes softened, my hands removing themselves from the gravestone. I stood up, wiping the dirt from my knees and laid a hand on her shoulder. Riza sniffed and shook her head.

"He loved me," she murmured, and my ears strained to hear her. "I knew he did. It may not have seemed like it, with the way he behaved and all, but he did. Ever since mother died, he..."

"Don't. Don't talk anymore," I told her softly. From my point of view I could see she was trying her best not to let herself weaken by her father's death. "He did love you. He was sorry he wasn't able to give you everything you needed like a father would give."

She shook her head again and motioned down the hill. "Let's go, Mr. Mustang," she said, putting on a strained smile. "I... I think you'd like to see his research. He'd want to see you become the next Flame Alchemist."

My eyes widened and I followed her down the grass to the house. She fiddled around with the keys until she came to the right one, opening the door. The twilight shadows of the house engulfed us both, suffocating us in the smell of death.

She climbed up the stairs and I followed, still trying to comprehend the situation. We reached her room and she closed the door behind us, sitting on the bed, looking at her feet, dazed.

"Riza?" I said, tentatively coming to sit next to her. She turned toward me and motioned to the buttons of her blouse. I frowned at her.

"Go on," she said, forcing a smile. "You want his research, right?"

"Well, yes," I admitted shamefully, "but what does this have anything to do with it?"

She sighed and gestured to the buttons again. "Just... do it."

I looked at her, and she gazed back, her eyes showing a flood of emotions. I then took a button and slowly slipped it through the holes, opening the blouse until the beginning of her bra began to show. "Are you sure?" I asked her.

"Just do it already, Mr. Mustang."

"Roy," I corrected her as I did many times before. I opened the rest of the buttons until the blouse only rested on her shoulders, showing her bra fully. She turned around and shrugged off the blouse.

It landed on the floor, and for an odd reason I heard a very loud thump as it rested on the wood. I realized then that it was my heart beating loudly at the sight of the markings of her father's research.

I could feel the intense fury bubbling up inside of me, the very thought of her being hurt like this by her own father.

"How could he?" I growled, and she flinched at my tone. "How could he do this?" And the rage began to turn to her: "How could _you_ let him _do _that?!"

Her body began to tremble once more. "I wanted to have attention! I wanted to actually have use to my father, to actually do something important than make tea or rearrange the books!"

Her sobs broke my heart terribly. I began to regret what I said, my hand running over the lines, and I said, "Oh, Riza, I'm so sorry..."

She was silent as I rubbed her back consolingly. "Did it... hurt?" I asked, hesitant.

"I... yes... it did."

And that was how I found her in my arms as she sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, the tears pouring out of her and onto my arms, my jacket, soaking it, and I murmured soothing words into her ear, trying to get her to surrender to calm, to get her to recognize that it was all in the past.

As she quieted, I smiled and she grinned back, the tears still present in her eyes. She relaxed in my arms, and I heard her say, "I'm yours now, Mr. Mustang."

My heart shattered at her quiet tone and I held her tighter.


	30. Letters

They hussled her over to reality, where she saw she could not keep herself in a fairy tale. Roy was gone for the military. He would probably never come back.

"You two have a special bond, Riza," her father had once told her. "He'll be back." It was a rare moment of compassion seen between the two of them after Riza's mother had died. Her father had taken her in his arms as she cried and cried, he tears soaking through her father's vest.

Now she sat quietly on her bed, the door closed, the rain pouring threateningly outside her window. His face corrupted her mind, and she was unable to think of anything other than him. Finally, one day, with her mind made up, she grabbed a piece of paper from her desk and, with a book to put the paper on, she settled down on the bed, fingering a pencil.

What would she write?

_Dearest one, _ she began in her head. She frowned and erased the thought from her head. _Dear Roy_. That sounded about right.

_Where've you been?_ That was a bit... harsh. She sighed and thought of another one. _Are you well?_ _Where are you right now? I hope you're not hurt._ That was a good first start.

She thought of something to tell him. _Something's different with Father. I think he's developed an attachment to you, what with you being his apprentice_. She smiled. She was starting to warm up to letter writing. _Ever since you've been gone, he's been so understanding to me. He told me that we had a special bond._

_He thinks you'll come back some day. Will you? I want to see you again. Father wants to see you again. I think he wants to give you the secret to Flame Alchemy, Roy._

_Come back. Show Father that you are something he would be proud of, not just a greedy, power-wanting soldier. He's getting sick, and he's becoming weaker and weaker. See him once before he leaves, Roy. He probably regards you as his son._

_I want to see you too. I'll help you; I'll follow you; I'll be loyal to you, your subordinate. Please, Roy, come back, stay for a little bit. And then I won't pester you again. You can leave after that. I just want to see you again._

_Love, _

_Riza._

She smiled and planned to send the letter at dawn the next morning.


	31. Fish

"Lieutenant."

She looked up. "Yes, sir?"

"I want a fish." The colonel nudged his head to the side.

"A fish."

His black depths for eyes stared at her. "Yeah. A fish. It'd be entertainment for the office."

"And if you get a fish, what would you name it?"

He thought for a moment, looking very smug. "I'd name it Flamey. He'd be red like a pure, solid candle, never to be blown out."

The lieutenant sighed. "You've thought this through."

"But of course," he continued, gazing at her unblinkingly, "it'd be a male. And I'd get a female for him named Hawkie."

"Is there a reason for this, Colonel," she questioned, though it sounded more like a demand.

"Why, yes, Hawkeye," he commented, raising an eyebrow. "Flamey and Hawkie would have thirty little babies. They'd be little flame-shooting candles."

She sighed. "If this is a plan to get in my pants tonight, Roy, it's not working."

He pointed a finger at her and exclaimed a rather loud, "AHA!!" He smirked at her. "Getting you to say my first name means I _am_ close to getting in your pants!"

The lieutenant rolled her eyes. "But we are not going to get fish." She got up to get her jacket so she could head home.

He stood also, reaching for his own and pulling the door open. As she went through and he was closing the door, he asked her excitedly, "So can we name our kids Flamey and Hawkie?"


	32. Trick

It was the fifth time that day that Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes was phoning him, and by the time his voice reached the colonel's ear, he had already hissed into the reciever, "Hughes, stop day dreaming about your wife and get to work!"

"But she's so beautiful," he whined back at him over the phone line. "She's turned hotter ever since she became pregnant, Roy!"

Roy's left eyebrow twitched dangerously. "Right. Maes, I'm serious, start working."

"Like you're one to talk," the lieutenant colonel retorted. "If you'd get a wife you wouldn't be so mean."

For the first time ever, Hughes hung up first.

Roy turned to Riza, who was feeding Hayate with a small smile on her face. She must have overheard. He was glad the rest of the staff were at lunch.

He smiled and told her, "He'd have a fit if we told him we're already married in secret."


	33. Warmth

"Ah! Mr. Mustang!" She hurriedly put down her books and rushed to the door. "You must be freezing!"

Roy smiled, shrugged his coat off of his shoulders and placed it on the hanger. "Don't worry, Miss Riza. I'm fine."

She didn't listen to him and continued to talk to him, telling him how dumb it was to go outside with only a coat. "Honestly, Mr. Mustang! Be more careful! Come on, I'll bring you some hot chocolate and you sit by the fire." Roy started to protest but she shooed him off, getting to work with his drink.

He was about to doze off when Riza came in front of him. She handed him his hot chocolate and, to his delight, warm fudge-filled brownies. "Eat," she ordered him, and he obeyed. She sat by him quietly and he glanced at her every few minutes. She seemed to be thinking.

"Mr. Mustang," she said finally, turning to face the young twelve year-old. "Do your hands ever get cold?"

There was a sort of longing tone in her voice and his eyes softened. "They get cold, but rarely."

"When you went outside, did they get cold?" She motioned to the heavy snow billowing in front of the windows.

"No. They didn't get cold," he answered her, grinning. She had a curious expression now, and she asked, "When _do_ they get cold?"

He thought about this for a moment, and when he finally had his answer, his heart seemed to warm up and beat faster. "Every time when you're not around."

Her eyes widened to the largest they could get for her nine year-old self, and she said, "Are they warm now?"

Roy smiled smuggly and placed a hand on hers. "See for yourself."

"They're burning," she whispered, entranced by the heat. Then she caught on and she asked, "Are you sure it's not because of the fire and the hot chocolate?"

He shrugged and settled into the sofa.

She snuggled into him and murmured, "I like your hands. Mine get cold often."

And Roy took one of her hands, covered it with both of his and told her, "Maybe I can fix that."


	34. First Meet

The young nine-year-old tentatively knocked his hand on the large, wooden door that loomed in front of him. His hands tightened on his linen-lined bag. He was about to give up when the door opened.

"You're the Mustang kid."

Roy looked up through the rain and nodded uselessly. The older man stared down at him. "How old are you, boy," he demanded.

"Nine," squeaked the terrified boy. "I--I'm nine."

The man grunted. "Come back in a year." He started to close the door.

"Father! No, wait!"

The man turned back swiftly and a loud noise cracked through the thick air. There was a girl behind the man, looking to be around six or so, and she was rubbing her cheek with tears streaming down her face. The man leaned down and glowered at the girl. "What do you _want?_"

She whimpered and stared guiltily at her feet. "I was... I was going to suggest that he stays here until the rain calms. He's already walked here..." she trailed off and sighed. "No, Father, do whatever you wish. I'll go make your tea."

Roy watched as the girl dropped her head with shame, walking into the darkness of what he supposed was the kitchen. He was freezing and wished that he was near a fire.

The man turned back and eyed him with distaste, then glanced up at the sky. The wind was blowing ferociously and the man sighed. "Fine," he told Roy, "you can stay here, but _only_ until the rain is done for. Which will be for a week, no doubt."

Roy brightened considerably as the man let him in. _My birthday's in a week, too! I'll be ten by that time._

The man led him to a dull bedroom with two beds furnishing the bland space. "You'll be in the same room as my daughter." He turned around to leave. "Dry yourself up for dinner. Oh, and by the way," he added, as he twisted back to stare at Roy with a glint in his eye, "don't you _dare_ touch my daughter. You hear?"

The boy nodded quickly. He placed his soaked bag on the floor by the window and pulled out his clothes. Thankfully, they weren't that wet.

* * *

His feet lightly hopped down the stairs to the kitchen, where he saw the little girl nursing her hand with ice. He came up next to her. "Burn yourself?"

"I accidentally spilled the tea," she admitted, ashamed. "It was hot." She sniffed.

_Awwww._ "Do you need help?"

She quickly looked up at him. "Er, no thank you, Mr. Mustang. I'm fine."

Roy smiled. "Well, let me know when you need anything... er..." He motioned to her sheepishly.

"It's Riza." She nodded at him.

He grinned at her and seated himself at the table.


	35. Questions

_Had she done it?_

No. She had failed.

_Was it over?_

No. It wasn't. The air was still thick with the scent of fire.

_Where was Fullmetal?_

Gone. Gone with Alphonse, through the Gate.

_Was he still here?_

Yes. He was still here.

_Does she trust him?_

She doesn't know. It's hard to tell.

_Does she see him?_

He's not anywhere to be seen.

_Is he alive?_

She can't tell. But she hopes he is.


	36. Destruction

There was a flash of light, an explosion, disaster. It was all destroyed in a blink of an eye, gone, out of sight, demolished. Ishbal was gone.

There were no survivors, it seemed.

What of the hero?

He was no hero. He thought himself the most unjust criminal.

What happened to him?

He left. To a grave. He's gone with a younger lady.

And there he was, and she was there too, and she said something; he recoiled, eyes wide, shaking his head, his hands trembling.

But her shirt was off, his hand poised, tears running down his cheeks. There was another flash, flames licking at the lady's back.

And it was over, and he hugged her, and she cried, and cried, and cried.


	37. Dog Biscuits

**Hey, everyone. I know it's a bit odd for me to actually be writing an author's note, but I just thought I'll update some things for you. I'm going much slower than usual, I know, but I won't be abandoning this. I've come so far already, and to let this go would be a disaster. And please, **_**please**_** review. I'm not getting many of those lately. Remember, more reviews, the more I get inspired. It's just the little button down there, guys ;)**

You see the dog hovering at your desk and you hand him two biscuits, glancing back at _her_ to make sure _she's_ not going to catch you. Of course, _she's _caught up in her work too much to even notice what you're doing, so you pat the puppy on the head and watch him trot away to his little spot by _her_ desk, munching away on his biscuits.

By then, your lieutenant stops to check the time, and realizes it is well past noon. Time to feed her dog. The lieutenant moves to get food for the puppy when she hears the crunch of the dog biscuits, and she looks down to see her dog shoving the second biscuit in his mouth. Her eyes trail toward you, and she raises an eyebrow. You've been caught, but you smirk and lay back into your chair, watching her with those dark, navy orbs for eyes and she shakes her head, turning back to her work.

You know she's going to thank you later. Besides, isn't that what she _always_ does?


	38. Hand Wounds Part 1

"So you _see,_" the boy continued with a sly grin, "it just so happens that I have your pitiful little subordinate trapped in another dimension."

"Shut up." But he knew Ed was gone. He wouldn't ever come back, most likely.

The boy shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "You know he's not coming back."

There was a sudden crash from the other room, and Roy struggled against the tightly wrung rope around his hands, his gloves laid neatly on a chair in the corner.

"Crap." The boy hopped down from his menacing position from the table, shut off the light, and waited in the shadows. The silence of the eerie room was so quiet that it was deafening. There were voices from the other side of the steel door, and suddenly gun shots. The form of the bullets molded into the steel, but they didn't get through.

"Open the door!" The room shook with the pounding footsteps of the Central Amestrian Army.

The young boy turned back to look at the colonel, his eyes flashing. "Your mother was Xingese, was she not?"

_Was?_

"YOU KILLED HER!" Roy bellowed, lashing out. "YOU KILLED MY MOTHER!"

"Be _quiet,_" the boy hissed. "Be glad your father is still alive."

His mother was dead. _Dead._ And he hadn't seen his father for years.

The door was starting the weaken, and the monstrous voices of the army started the get louder, closer, clearer. It wasn't until he heard a "Colonel!" from the mingling voices from the door that he gained his strength. As the boy neared him, Roy spit in his eye. The young boy bent down in disgust, trying to rid his vision of saliva, and Roy forced himself to move to the chair in the corner, despite his legs and arms being tied together.

The door crashed to the ground.

The first person he saw enter the room in the suffocating shadows was his lieutenant. She ran toward him, not giving a care in the world to the boy who eyed her legs greedily.

She fell, crying out in pain as the boy sat up, pulling her toward him, shoving a knife to her neck.

"Give me the gloves," the boy whispered, and all commotion around them froze. "Give me the gloves, or she dies."

He didn't seem to notice, or care, that an alchemist in the back wandered slowly to the dusty window sill, where a stick of chalk lay. Catching Roy's eye, he nodded, took the stick of chalk, put it on the ground, and waited until Roy spit the gloves out of his mouth. His hands where covered with blood, as he had been trying to slip them from the tightly bound ropes around his wrists. Now that it was slippery enough, he carefully slipped them from the rope. The boy only noticed the gloves, and he let Riza fall the floor. He snatched the gloves and stared at them, making sure nothing had happened. As preoccupied as he was with the gloves, a flash of white on the ground rolling to the colonel caught his eye.

"_No_," he muttered, and he shot to the chalk like a magnet. "NO!"

Roy took the stick of chalk and held it, narrowing his eyes at the boy. "Three years, I waited," he told the boy. "Three years, I waited for Ed to get his act going and get him and his brother back to his original bodies." He started drawing something on the ground, and the boy watched him in fear. "And he did--for his brother. What happened to Ed?" He paused, letting the last syllable echo throughout the room. "He left. He left, and he didn't get his old body back."

He had seemed to finish drawing. The boy shuddered back to the corner of the room.

"Do you know who's fault it is?"

A shake of the head.

Roy closed his eyes from one second, and the boy knew he could have taken that moment to ruin everything the colonel had just set up. But he didn't.

Roy opened his eyes again. Time seemed to freeze, and his lieutenant was staring at him with wide eyes, pleading him not to say it. He knew it would hurt her, but he said it anyway.

"_Mine._"

And he placed his hands on the circle.

There was a roar of fire, and the boy had been drowned into the depth of the flames.


	39. Hand Wounds Part 2

He'd been pulled into the car with haste, his subordinates driving almost recklessly to avoid risking more of _them_ coming. The other soldiers were in the cars behind their own, following their route, imitating their every move to make it back safely to the headquarters.

His two lieutenants carefully inspected his stinging, blood-stained hands, Havoc digging through the kit and hurriedly handing the necessary tools to Hawkeye to keep the bacteria away from the colonel's open wounds. She'd done this many times before; he could tell by the way she skillfully wrapped the bandage around his hands, the way she dabbed the medicine on his scrapes. By no time, his hands were covered with the wrap, and the stinging sensation had diminished to a dull throbbing ache.

The car swerved to the curb and stopped with a sudden screech. The six of them rushed out of the car, grabbing all the mandatory supplies, and hurried through the doors of Central Headquarters.

They were safe.

* * *

"Colonel, permission to speak freely?"

He looked up from his wrapped hands to Hawkeye, carefully regarding her. Her eyes were narrowed from the incident they had witnessed not even an hour ago, her fists clenched. She was standing tall, stiff, and her head held high. "Yes, of course. Of course." He nodded at her, and she continued.

"Edward hasn't been found yet. I assume they will claim he is dead."

_Dead?_ "That's ridiculous, Lieutenant Hawkeye. Fullmetal isn't _dead,_" he said, rather quickly. As he reached for his tea sitting on the edge of his desk, his folder dropped to the ground, and as he bent to pick it up, his hands struck the leg of his desk. The pain was excruciating, and he brought them back up quickly, holding them to his mouth, the tea and folder forgotten.

His lieutenant's eyes widened considerably. "Sir! Are you okay?"

He glanced up at her, seeing her eyes grow with concern. "Yes, Lieutenant," he managed, grinding his teeth in pain, "yes. I'll be fine."

She moved behind his desk, taking hold of his hands and placing them on the desk. "Be more careful next time," she advised him. "You're not fit to be doing anything dangerous with those hands." She turned and smiled softly.

"You're right, Lieutenant Hawkeye." He smirked back at her. Forgetting his hands, he turned back to his white queen, the most precious piece he had on his chess board, to discuss about Edward.


	40. Brother Spies

"I really think they like each other, Ed," Alphonse whispered to his older brother, watching the lieutenant and the colonel through the window. Edward rolled his eyes. "No, they don't. That's disgusting."

But they watched as Lieutenant Hawkeye threatened to shoot the colonel if he didn't do his paperwork anyway. Alphonse thought he saw a hint of a smile on the blonde lieutenant's face. Other than the lieutenant and the colonel, the room was emptied of anyone.

"Ed, I'm serious. We should get them together." Alphonse pointed to Lieutenant Hawkeye. "I really like her, and the colonel's not that bad either. They're a perfect match!"

"Only you think about these things, Al," Edward sighed, turning to glower at his brother. "I, personally, think it's disturbing. A subordinate with a boss. That's like a teacher with a student. Ewww." But he seemed to watch them anyway, and with growing interest.

Alphonse shrugged, and turned back to observe the scene. The colonel was laughing now, and the lieutenant looked annoyed. All at once, Colonel Mustang stood up and walked toward his lieutenant, reached for the back of her head and let her hair out from the clip. He pulled her chin with one finger to his own.

"I don't really think we should be watching this, Al..." Edward trailed off uncertainly. Alphonse knew that his brother was right, but it was intriguing.

The colonel gave his lieutenant a long, soft, gentle kiss. Her eyes were closed, her hands molding into his hair. He grinned in their kiss, and they pulled apart. He glanced at the clock, said something to Lieutenant Hawkeye, smiling gently, and walked out the door.

The brothers spent a few minutes analyzing the shocking scene they had just witnessed, when they felt someone's stare on them. Turning around slowly, they came face to face with the colonel.

"Spying now, are we?" He shook his head, smirking. "I'd advise you not to tell anyone what you saw here. Understand?"

The Elric brothers nodded, furrowing their eyebrows.

"Or else," the colonel added, starting to laugh, "I'll tell Winry that you've been cheating on her."

"You _wouldn't_!"

"Oh, I _would._"

He stood up and left, a smug smile on his face.


	41. Mischievousness

Growing up, he was the most mischievous boy she knew. In any situation he could find _some_ way to be obnoxious.

When she was seven, he'd taken a rubber band and a bag of marbles, smacking her father's head with balls of glass. He'd turn around, see no one there, and get as angry as he could get.

When she was nine, he'd taken her favorite coat and tied it around her father's head with a rope while he slept. She had to go untie it again to make sure her father wouldn't suffocate.

When she was thirteen, he created a puppet and repeatedly tapped her father's shoulder with the puppet's hand. Her father would chase him all over the house in an effort to get him to stop.

When she was sixteen, she found him next to her in bed, with her only in her underwear and t-shirt. She immediately jumped to conclusions, and he had laughed for ten minutes straight, about how he'd never done anything but take her clothes off except for her shirt and under garments. Later, he added hastily that she was _hot_.

And when she continued to grow, he'd taken all his mischievousness away and replaced them with handfuls of intelligence, pinches of cockiness, and a special dash of sweetness. Reserved just for her.


	42. Blush

Roy cursed as he nursed his finger that had been he had burned and glared at the stove, as though threatening to burn it to ashes. When it stood still innocently, he turned his withering glare to the chicken on top, and just then Riza skipped down the stairs.

She moved next to him and saw the look he was giving the chicken. "You know, you could always eat it so that you won't hate it that much, Mr. Mustang."

He glanced back at her, and did a double take. He hadn't heard her come down. "Miss Riza!" He stared at her for a moment, then raised his finger and grimaced. "No, I, ah... I burned my finger."

"That's it? I thought the chicken poisoned you, or something," she told him, and the twelve year old rolled his eyes.

She turned on the cold water and held his hand under it until he complained that it was "too cold, I can't stand it, too cold!" So she wrapped his finger with a bandage, but not before rubbing some cream on it.

He smiled at her, ruffling her short hair. "Thanks, Riza. I knew I could count on you." He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

He didn't notice her blush a furious shade of red as she held her cheeks.


	43. Gloves

The light filtered through the window and rested on the back of the colonel's head as he surveyed his gloves. He never truly inspected them and only now admired how intricate the gloves were. Of course, the array was burned in his head, for the weeks he'd spent trying to memorize it were hard earned and deserving. The entire reasoning was etched into his mind and never, if he could try, would he be able to get it out.

The sun glinted off the red of the array and he smiled. The sun was strong, but the air cold. Maybe he would take a walk, find Fullmetal and his brother, or maybe go find a nice girl and take her out... yeah, maybe he would do the girl thing.

Just then, the door to his office opened and his second lieutenant popped in. "Colonel Mustang?" Jean Havoc asked, shifting on his feet behind the door. "It's lunch time, sir, can I go eat? I was sitting out here for an hour."

An hour ago, Havoc had decided it necessary to infiltrate the colonel's desk with beer. Why, the colonel had no idea. But he caught Havoc before he could do such harm to his desk and immediately sent him out of his office.

The colonel waved him off and frowned at his gloves. He'd never needed to wear his gloves purely for comfort. Of course, they warmed his hands but there wasn't a need for him to wear them without a threat, because his hands were so warm anyway.

Havoc left the door open as he marched to the cafeteria, and First Lieutenant Hawkeye strode in and closed the door, a stack of paperwork in her arms. "Hawkeye," Mustang acknowledged, and she saluted with her free hand after the door shut softly. She then came forward and laid the papers on an empty space on his desk. A small groan made his way through his throat and he glanced up at his lieutenant, who stared him down.

"Lieutenant," he whined. Hawkeye took his gloves from his hands, and he flinched when he felt how cold her hands were. "Your hands... they're freezing," he said softly, his eyes locked on her fingers, which had shocked him with their cold. She said nothing and opened his drawer, placed his gloves in the corner and handed her commanding officer a pen. He took it slowly, but did not write. "Why are you so cold?"

He looked up at her, and only just noticed the flush in her cheeks, the slight redness in her eyes. He stood up, motioning for her to come behind his desk. She moved slowly, as though trying to keep her balance. Carefully, he laid the back of his hand on her forehead and the heat of it burned through his body. "Are you sick, Lieutenant?" he asked her quietly, his hand resting on her forehead. She stared at him, firm, unwavering. He repeated himself, leaning closer to her, his other hand grasping her shoulder, "Are you sick?" She flinched and took a step back.

She was too quiet today, he realized. Her scarlet cheeks, though she was sick, entranced him. Her cold hands raised up to take his own and put them back to his side. "Get back to work, sir," she whispered. He did not sit down, however, and continued to move forward. She also moved back with ever step he took, until she was pressed against the office wall. He crossed to her, slowly, his eyes wide. "Lieutenant..."

She turned her head away and frowned at the carpet. He was close now, and he took her shoulders again. "If you're sick, I want you to take the day off," he told her quietly. She shook her head. Without a word, she pushed him away and gestured to his desk. He watched her, cautious of her actions; he didn't want her to fall, he didn't want her to take weight on her while she wasn't well. He moved forward to her again, so sudden, and pulled her into him, embracing her, one hand nudged on the back of her head, one on the small of her back. She stood motionless, her eyes closing slowly. Her scent was refreshing; she smelled of pine trees, of nature.

They stood for a while, neither moving from their positions. Then, he took one of her cold hands and held it tightly. She pulled away and started to her desk, but he tugged on her hand and stopped her. He looked her in the eye, a silent word passing through them, only one word that she didn't want to listen. _Go._

She shook her head and pulled her hand from his, tilting slightly to the side as she just barely stumbled to her chair. He moved toward his desk, eyeing her carefully. As she sat down, he tried the pen on the back of one of the papers she laid on his desk, only to find it didn't work. He opened his drawer to find another one, but a certain array caught his eye. He stared at his gloves, and starting to smile, he took the pair of gloves and walked over to his lieutenant.

She watched him warily as he took each of her hands and fit the corresponding glove in each one. Then, he closed her fingers over them and laid his hands on her fists.

"Wear them," he said softly. She glanced down, wide-eyed, at her hands. He had never let anyone but himself wear his gloves, and a feeling of honor crossed over her. She slipped the gloves over her ice-cold hands and stared at them, at how they seemed to caress her skin and fit perfectly at every corner. She marveled at how soft they felt inside, and how rough they were on the outside. She vaguely felt his eyes on her, watching her awe, her amazement.

"They feel good, don't they," Mustang murmured. "They make you feel comfortable all at once. Am I right?" She nodded, turning her hands to inspect how the gloves fit faultlessly on her fingers.

"At least," he continued, and she finally raised her head to watch him, "don't go home. Stay here; lie down on the couch, I have some blankets in the cabinet."

She could not disagree with that. He helped her up, and she collapsed on his shoulder. He pulled her to the small loveseat and she settled on the cushions. Then he crossed to his cabinet, took a few blankets and wandered back to his lieutenant.

When he finished putting the blankets on her, he turned to go back to his desk to get to work, when her hand caught his. He turned back to face her, and she mouthed one word: _stay._

He smiled softly, moving back to his lieutenant and settled at the head of the couch. However, she straightened up and cleared a space for him, and he moved there, next to her, and she settled next to him.

**

The door opened to Colonel Mustang's office quietly, and Second Lieutenant Havoc nudged himself through the door. It was too quiet; he looked around see why, when he caught sight of the colonel and First Lieutenant Hawkeye on the couch... asleep.

Her head was on his lap, her cheek flushed scarlet, her hair mussed. One of her hands held the colonel's loosely, and the other cushioning her head, in between her ear and the colonel's thigh. The colonel himself had one hand tangled in her hair, and the other tied with Hawkeye's. His face was tilted to the side, leaned back, his mouth open.

Havoc's heart pounded as he crossed by them on his toes, treading to his desk as he got his cigarette pack.

As he moved back, his eyes caught the array on the back of the colonel's gloves. The hand that wore them was Hawkeye's, and he gulped, staring at the gloves. Mustang never let anyone but himself wear the gloves, so something special must have happened today.

He moved back out the door, glancing at the two figures on the couch. Then he locked the door from the inside, went outside the office, and closed the door silently. He twisted the knob, and it didn't open. Good. It was locked.

He smiled and walked away.


	44. Christmas

"Unca Woy!"

The colonel turned around to face Elicia Hughes, Maes Hughes's daughter, who's bright emerald eyes gleamed from the sunlight in the sky. Smiling softly, he bent down to ruffle her hair. "How are you, Elicia?"

"I'm gweat," she announced, grinning proudly at him. "Guess what I got fwom Santa!" The three year old took his hand and pulled him into the house.

Defeated, he trailed after the little girl until he reached the living room, where Gracia Hughes was sitting on the couch, admiring a handmade sweater.

"Hello, Roy," she greeted, grinning. "How are you? I know it's a lot to ask, but can you give this to Riza?" She held out the sweater. It was a warm, burgundy red, with a single olive green ribbon around the bottom.

"Of course," he agreed. He took the sweater and hung it over his arm, then settled down beside Gracia. "How much longer until you leave?"

Gracia sighed, glancing at him. "Oh, Roy, it's so maddening. It's the first Christmas I've spent without him, since maybe five or six years ago. I just hope he's fine, wherever he is. I think I'll be leaving for Eastern in about a week, after the New Year, so we can start over again."

"Yeah."

Elicia had grabbed a gigantic teddy and marched up to Roy, shoving it on his lap. "I call him Tuffy." She giggled at her own name for the bear and climbed up between Gracia and Roy.

He talked with the young girl for a while, admiring her bear, joking with her, laughing. And then, he rose up from his spot and fumbled in his pockets, coming across a red box.

"This," he began, handing it to Gracia, "was very dear to Maes. He... he wanted to give this to you the next Christmas. I found it in his office at work."

She slid the top of the box off, and a necklace was revealed to her, a locket of some sorts. Her eyes gleamed with tears, and she fiddled with it for a moment, before finally opening it. Inside was one picture she vaguely remembered taking when Elicia was born, one she hadn't even thought Maes would remember among all the other pictures he'd taken over the years. It was the five of them; her, Maes, Roy, Riza, and Elicia. Maes had his arms around her, and she was cradling Elicia, smiling at the camera. Elicia was turned so that her face was visible, her green eyes shining. Roy was smiling--not smirking--at the camera, rather affectionately, his arm hung around his lieutenant and his other on Maes's shoulder.

"I have a copy, too," he said softly. "This was taken maybe almost three years ago, the Christmas that year."

"Thank you," Gracia whispered. "Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me. But..." she paused, turning to face him. "Roy, you can't spend your whole Christmas with me. Now that you've given me this, Maes is with us, always. I think you should go to Riza."

"Gracia--" he began, about to tell her that he couldn't leave her alone right now--it was Christmas, she was a widowed mother, he couldn't leave her in that state.

"Go." She smiled at him again, and he didn't argue any longer. After kissing Elicia's tuft of brown hair goodbye, he grabbed his coat and flew out of the house.

**

Her door only barely decorated; there was one little bell hung on the handle. He rung that instead of the doorbell, and he heard her shuffling through her apartment before finally opening the door.

"Sir!" she exclaimed, snapping to attention. He started to laugh; she was dressed in a light blue, fluffy robe, with leopard slippers and her hair was down and mussed. She slowly lowered her hand and glared at him for laughing at her when she realized she was wearing something totally inappropriate for seeing her commanding officer. She flushed scarlet and moved out of the way as he strode into her apartment.

"Excuse me for my appearance," she said, embarrassed. "I apologize. I'll go change now, sir."

"No," he said, catching himself. "Don't change. And drop the _sir_; it's Christmas. You can be yourself today, Riza."

She stared at him for a while, and then she smiled brightly, and he stumbled at what he was going to say next, because she looked so amazingly beautiful, so radiant, so elegant, though she was dressed in such a puffed robe. Finally, he held out the sweater Gracia had told him to give her for Christmas.

She took it, flipping it around in her hands, until she decided to ask him who it was from. "Gracia, she made it for you... for Christmas," he added lamely, still shaken up by her smile.

"Tell her I said thank you," she said softly. "It's beautiful. Should I go change into it, do you think?"

"Definitely." He nodded quickly.

She moved into the bedroom and he heard her pulling the sweater over her.

After maybe five minutes, she came back out, and he was even more stricken with her beauty than before; she was wearing the sweater with a dark green scarf wrapped loosely around her neck, her glimmering hair caressing her shoulders, her legs suiting a pair of jeans that hugged her legs so well that he could hardly swallow. She slipped on a pair of boots and said, "Let's go out."

"Ice skating?"

"Yeah. I've missed it," she admitted. He smiled.

"We haven't done it for years," he told her.

She waved it off. "It's okay, it's a natural talent for the both of us. We'll catch on soon enough."

Hayate, who had finally emerged from the bedroom, barked happily as Riza attached a leash to his collar. "Let's go," she told Roy, and he nodded. She took his hand and, laughing like a high school teenager (definitely taking up his request for her to act herself), led him out of her apartment, locking the door behind her.

**

**I know it's nowhere near Christmas, way past it in fact, but this was bugging me and I had to get it out. There will be a second part to this.**


	45. Edward

**I actually decided not to do a second part to Christmas. Not only did I have no inspiration, I just didn't know where to go with it. D: Sorry! But here, an extra long one for you guys.**

What a load of ... seriously!

I turned to glare at Al as he shrugged nervously and pointed at the shop. "Well -- it's Christmas, might as well get Winry a -- well, I mean, you don't need to if you don't want -- "

"I'm going to kill you the second we get your body back," I growled. Of course I didn't _mean_ it but I could hardly believe what I heard. Me? In love with _Winry_? Of all the possible girls here in Amestris he suggested that I'd fallen in love with the one girl who has more guts than me? Enough to chuck wrenches at my forehead, for crying out loud!

The large suit of armor squeaked and backed away. He stumbled into someone and apologized repeatedly, and didn't stop even when the man said, "Ah, Fullmetal. Came here to get something for your beloved Rockbell?"

"Colonel Matchstick!" I said, feeling harassed. I hastily shoved my hands in my pockets. "No! What the hell're _you_ doing here?"

"So sorry, sir, I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have -- " said Alphonse, still continuing to apologize. I turned a glower onto my brother. Apparently Mustang had started to feel a bit annoyed, because he said, "Alphonse, if there were _any_ more need of you to apologize I would send you down on your knees."

"Oh, right, sorry, I'll keep mind of that, sorry -- "

Mustang gave him a pointed look and Al shut up. I rolled my eyes. "Look, what do you want?"

"Well, _I _was looking for a good store to buy presents from but none of them catch my fancy." The colonel looked around thoughtfully. "Ah, but I haven't tried all of them -- maybe that one?" He motioned to the same one Al did no less than five minutes ago. Al snickered, and Mustang turned around to stare at him, puzzled.

"Am I missing something, Fullmetal?" And then his confused expression turned smug. "Oh, would you like me to help you find something for Miss Rockbell?"

"Shut up!" I said. Several people around me turned to glare, but I ignored them. "What's up with you two? _I -- don't -- like -- Winry -- that -- way!"_

"I've got to go there, anyway," said Mustang, continuing as though he'd never heard me. "Why don't you come with me? I'm sure we can find something for Miss Rockbell."

Hatred boiled inside me. This man was a nightmare! I _hated _him! But still, even with me fuming in his wake, I traced his steps into the shop decorated with red and green.

Mustang stopped and grinned. "Amelia. Hello!"

There was a large café in the store, where many of the people had stopped to have something to eat after their exhausting Christmas shopping. One of the waitresses -- a very pretty brunette one, too -- stopped at the mention of her name and grinned widely at the sight of the colonel.

I elbowed him but he ignored me. I could almost see Alphonse's metal cheeks go red... almost.

"Colonel? We're gonna go -- " I began, but he interrupted me with a very rude, "No, you're staying _right here,_ Fullmetal, until I'm finished."

I shifted on my feet impatiently. "Look, we don't have the damn time to watch you flirt -- "

The girl, Amelia, was setting her tray down onto a table and making her way toward us. But Mustang turned to me suddenly and he hissed, "Watch and _learn,_ you stubborn, pathetic excuse for a boyfriend. Don't you want to get something _good _for Miss Rockbell?"

I opened my mouth to retort something (most likely very rude) but Alphonse waved his arms in a _'he's gonna cut your throat!' _manner, so I closed it and glared at the colonel's back as he turned to welcome the pretty brunette.

"Long time no see, Roy!" she said, batting her eyelashes in what I thought was the most fake way possible. "What can I do for ya today, sweetie?"

"Yeah, listen, Amelia." Mustang shoved his hands into his coat pockets. "You haven't got some good scarves around here, would you?"

_Scarves?_ This was how the great womanizer got girlfriends? I stared incredulously as she laughed. I had to admit, though -- her attitude was fake, but her laugh was real, and sounded a lot like tinkling bells.

"Plently, of course. C'mon," she said, motioning to him. When she saw that we followed, she stopped abruptly and asked, "They're with ya?"

"Yes."

Her eyes lingered on Al for a moment, obviously a bit annoyed that a giant suit of armor would be following her around for a great deal of the time. Then she moved onto me.

And she smiled.

"I absolutely _adore_ kids!" She squealed and wrapped her arms around me. I flushed scarlet as Mustang smirked. "And you're so _cute!_ He doesn't happen to be _yours,_" she added suddenly, turning a very hard look on the colonel, "does he?"

I choked. Not only was she holding onto me so hard, but I couldn't even imagine what it would be like to be Mustang's son. I'd go insane before I was even born.

"Of course not," said Mustang, looking absolutely horrified. "He doesn't even look like me. Aww, but he is cute, isn't he?"

I gagged. My face was turning purple. I could see out of my squinted eyes that Al had absolutely no idea how to help me. But never mind that now -- did he just call me _cute?_

"I'd do _anything _to have ya as a little brother," Amelia told me, her bright blue eyes glinting. "How old are ya? Ten? Twelve?"

"Fif -- fift -- t -- "

"He's fifteen!" Al called out desperately -- I'd turned a very violent shade of indigo -- and she let go of me immediately.

"B -- but you're so _short!"_ She was obviously disgusted.

I got annoyed so fast that I literally lunged at her, shouting the most despicable curses I knew, and that all the customers and waitresses and cashiers were yelling at me to SHUT UP, but I paid no attention to them, my only focus was that damned waitress who just called me the size of a _flea_ so bluntly in front of everyone -- that _damn _waitress, I was going to get her --

Suddenly a pair of long arms pulled me back and I fell on my bottom on the ground, breathing heavily. A very angry Mustang appeared in front of me. "You _idiot!_ You don't overreact like that! What the _hell_ am I going to tell Bradley about your damn behavior?!"

Amelia squeaked. She'd obviously never seen the colonel like this. He was enraged.

Pulling me roughly to my feet, he pulled me after him and I could hear Al's heavy footsteps behind me.

"Colonel Mustang?" Al seemed extremely shy. Not that he never was, it just seemed very appropriate. There was an awkward silence between me and Mustang.

Finally he turned around. "I'm sorry, Fullmetal. I lost my cool so easily over there. I can't imagine the rumors that'll come up... I never should have asked Amelia to help us."

He was trying to -- wait, what? "Sorry?" I said, extremely puzzled. "Help us?"

He stared at me. "Well, obviously -- she's a _lady_, she's going to know what Miss Rockbell would want -- but, ah, I see the scarves over there. Here. Let's go."

I followed him in a sort of trance, suddenly feeling abashed at what I did over in front of everyone to Amelia.

Mustang turned around and inquired: "What's Miss Rockbell's favorite color?"

"Uh -- "

"Blue," Alphonse piped up helpfully. I breathed a sigh of relief. How would I know what Winry's favorite color was? But then... wait. How would _Al_ know?

"How do you know?" I hissed to my brother. He sighed and said, "Don't you listen to anything she tells you?"

I swear, I shrunk another inch out of sheer embarrassment. That was when Al laughed and said, "You're look so adorable when you're embarrassed, Brother!"

It wasn't normal to have your own brother tell you this, especially if you were a guy, but then I realized that Mustang had called me cute in front of Amelia. I grimaced and shoved his shoulder.

"What was that for, Fullmetal!" He was holding a very pretty light blue scarf, but I paid little attention to it. "You called me cute!" I growled at him, trying to make myself menacing, but of course he was over a foot taller than me and it didn't work.

"Well of _course_ I did, Fullmetal, did you think I _wouldn't_ try and see you get pissed?"

"_Why you -- !"_

"Best not get in a bad mood here, Edward," he advised me, and my anger evaporated the second I realized he said my name. "Now, how's this one here? Would she like it?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever." I waved it off. My moods constantly changed today. What was wrong with me?

"Okay." He smiled to himself and shoved the scarf in my arms to continue rummaging through the pile of scarves. Finally he found a deep burgundy scarf with two small dark orange ribbons at the bottom of one end and he slung it over his arm. "Alright. Come with me."

I followed him (with Al trudging next to me) and we reached... the jewelery section.

"What..." I began, but Al shut me up. "Not now, Brother!"

I watched as Mustang looked through the necklaced, rings, earrings, and bracelets until he came across a very pretty set of earrings that caught both his _and_ my attention.

"This one," he said to the cashier, who seemed quite cautious of me personally (my actions earlier must have been vicious). "How much is it?"

"Ninety nine, sir."

"Right," said Mustang. "Okay. I'll have it."

"D'you want it gift wrapped, sir?"

"Uh, yeah, sure."

The cashier smiled. "Lovely."

Was it just me, or was this cashier starting to become really time consuming?

"Look, can we be quick here?" Mustang asked the cashier, and he smiled more widely and said, "Of course, sir. It'll be ready _prontissimo._"

Really. He used a _music_ term in his sentence.

The cashier popped it in a box, and shoved it into a clear bag (with much reluctance from all of us), poured confetti down it, a cinnamon stick, and, to my horror, a sprig of holly was about to go in --

"No. No damn holly," said Mustang. I could see a vein pulsing in his temple. "No _damn_ holly."

"But -- "

"I said _no damn holly_. Let me pay."

He was paying for _my _gift to Winry?

"Colonel, if you forgot, _I'm_ giving that to Winry -- "

He gave me The Look. I shuddered away from him.

Then Mustang turned back to the cashier and said, "Oh, wait. Can you show me your ring selection?"

I waited impatiently as Mustang looked through the rings, finally deciding on one with a ruby in the center, and a diamond on either side. He had that gift wrapped, too -- but without the holly.

"Now I'll pay," said Mustang as he took out his wallet.

"Oh, no you won't." I shoved him away and tore out my own wads of money to pay for my bit of jewelery but Mustang pushed me behind him and calmly handed the cashier the amount asked.

"I'm paying you back," I muttered to the colonel, but he didn't say anything. As we received our packages, and as I was about to ask him whose _his_ was for, he gave me the blue scarf he'd selected for Winry and took his own, wrapping the jewelery in it, finally placing it (scarf included) into a gift box and tied a ribbon around the whole thing.

That was damn well creative. I followed his example, but I didn't tie the ribbon quite as well.

"See?" Mustang laughed. "Now you see how I get all the girls."

"Who's yours for, Colonel?" Al asked curiously.

"Someone special." He winked. "Well, you'll see."

We walked back out of the shop (with Amelia glaring at me the whole way) and to Mustang's car. As Alphonse fit himself into the back seat (it was really a good thing I was so small, just for that reason) Mustang started the engine and we headed to what looked suspiciously like the route to Mr. Hughes's house.

"Colonel?" Alphonse asked timidly. "Where are we going?"

"Lieutenant Colonel Hughes's house," said Mustang shortly. But he grinned in the rearview mirror at us, so I didn't take the tone seriously.

A while later we got there, and as Mustang knocked firmly on the door and Mr. Hughes opened it with a wide smile (also emphasizing that he had a lot of new pictures of his daughter, Elicia), I caught sight of Winry's ponytail by the upstairs window. My heart thudded in my chest. Would she like the earrings? Would she like the scarf?

Wait, why was I worrying about this? I didn't like her that way! I shook my head to clear the confusion.

"Colonel."

"Lieutenant."

I tuned in to the person who'd appeared at the door after Hughes. It was Lieutenant Hawkeye. She looked -- well, _extremely_ pretty. If I were only a bit older, I would have -- well, anyway, she scared the hell out of me a lot of the time so nevermind.

"You look beautiful," said the colonel. Though Hawkeye didn't blush or twirl her hair in her fingers, she did smile just a bit. "Thank you, sir."

Hughes moved away to let us in, and we moved through the foyer to the living room, where the Christmas tree was, set up as a dazzling display. But the real show was the mingle _everywhere_ -- was the whole neighborhood invited? I didn't even think that this many people could fit in a house this small.

"Eddie!"

What?

I looked down to find Elicia grinning up at me, holding a plush bear in both her hands. "Eddie," she repeated. She dropped her bear and held out her arms. A rush of admiration ran through me. I picked her up and settled her in my arms.

The brightest flash appeared before my eyes and Hughes was in front of me, holding the most complex damn camera I ever saw in my life.

"Oh my damn crap" was the only thing I could say as I almost (ALMOST -- you _can't_ blame me!) dropped Elicia on to the ground. Hughes shrieked, threw his camera to his wife, Gracia, and dived for his daughter. At the sight of me and Hughes and Elicia and Gracia, Mustang burst out laughing, the hardest I'd ever heard. And then Al started to copy him, and then Armstrong (Armstrong! Can you believe it?!), and _then_ -- I was _so embarrassed --_ Winry.

The shock on my face must have been incredibly noticeable because Mustang (he was drinking after he calmed down) spluttered and almost choked out of laughter again. I flushed scarlet, but when I looked back to Winry I saw she was smiling widely.

And that's when I got a wrench chucked at my head.

"What the damn hell was that for?" I roared at her, Al holding me back, and Winry's smile became a very angry frown.

"You said you were going to pick me up from the train station! You _didn't._ I had to call Mrs. Hughes to pick me up!"

She was fuming. I gulped. "Sorry?"

_"You -- rotten -- spoiled -- brat -- the size of a -- "_

And Mustang, who'd stopped laughing a while ago when he saw the state Winry was in, lunged for me to stop me from yelling my heart out for her calling me small. Incidentally, she screamed, "I even got you a _present!"_

"Well, I got _you _one, too!" I yelled back at her, desperate to be back on her good side. Mustang spun me around, and I saw the warning on his face: crap.

"You _did?"_

I turned back, eyes wide. Everyone in the room (did I mention the fact that the whole neighborhood was in this house?) was staring at me. Some were smiling, some faces aghast, some just completely blank and confused. "Crap. Crap. Crap, crap, crap. _Crap."_

"We get it, Fullmetal," hissed Mustang in my ear.

I pressed my foot on his toe, and he gasped in pain and pulled away. Served him right. Idiot.

Winry came forward, and for the life of me I couldn't read her face. I had no idea whether or not she was angry.

"You seriously got me a present."

"Y-yeah -- "

"Not kidding?"

"N-no -- no, no, I'm not." I was literally shivering in my shoes.

"Alright," she said, placing her hands on her hips. "Who helped you?"

How was I supposed to tell her my sworn enemy helped me to pick out a gift for her? Damn it! Why did Christmas have to be so hard?

I stood there with my mouth open, looking like an idiot, when Mustang stepped forward and said, "He got you the gift but I paid for it."

I spun around to punch him senseless when she exclaimed, _"Really?"_

"Absolutely." Mustang beamed.

"That's not true, I -- " I said, determined to tell her the truth.

"He's trying to be noble, saying he paid for it himself," said Mustang. "But it's true. The present's really cool."

"But -- " I interrupted, wondering why the hell he was doing this.

He gave me The Look for the second time today and I closed my gaping mouth, instead deciding on the cowardly way out and glowering at him.

Someone giggled and I looked down to find Elicia peering up at me. _What now?_ I thought, steeling myself for more embarrassment.

"I found the pwesent!" She held up the gift box.

"Good girl, Elicia," said Winry, eyes glinting. "Give it to me."

"No, Elicia, presents wait for _after_ Christmas," I intervened. I knelt down. "Give it to me. If you give it to her she'll never give me mine."

But the little girl's eyes twinkled as she trotted over to Winry and handed her the present. My heart stopped beating and I could hardly breathe.

Mustang chuckled behind me.

"Thank you," she said. But Elicia wasn't finished. She grabbed Winry's jacket and snatched a small box from the pocket. Winry stopped smiling.

"Oh, no, Elicia, please don't,"

"But I want Eddie to get his pwesent too!" She pouted at Winry.

Still, as Winry continued to object, Elicia walked up to me and handed the me the box.

There was a silence in the room, just up until Hughes ran forward, snatched his daughter from the ground and planted kisses all over her face. "That's -- my -- girl! Yes!"

Mustang let out a cat call and said, "Open it, Fullmetal!"

I swallowed and stared down at the box in my hands. But there was a gasp before I could do anything.

Winry had opened my gift to her. She was staring at it in horror.

"You got me a _scarf?!_"

Damn it, Mustang -- I'm going to _kill _him! "Is it the wrong c-color?"

She glared up at me, but I was startled to see tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "You got me a damn scarf!"

Mustang moved forward. "Miss Rockbell."

She glowered daggers at him. If looks could kill, that one would. "You helped him. You! I _hate _you!"

He stepped back a bit this time. I started to feel sorry for him. "You should -- you should probably unwrap -- "

"Unwrap _what?_"

"The scarf!" He looked at her as he moved back to the crowd in the living room. Winry glanced back down at the scarf in her hands. That's right -- she hadn't opened it yet.

She let the scarf unfurl and the gift bag tumbled out. The gift bag with the confetti, the cinnamon stick.. but not the holly. Thank _god_ not the holly, because Winry hated holly.

Winry picked it up and let all the decorations pour out as she fingered the box. Then she opened it.

"Oh, Edward... "

"D'you -- d'you like it?" I stuttered. I'd never felt so nervous in my entire life.

"Do I like it?" She was actually crying. What was I supposed to do? This was much more different when we were children. Not now, when we were -- what was the word -- _hormonal._

"I don't like it," she continued. My heart dropped into my stomach and I felt terrible. She glanced up at me. "I love it, Edward. Thank you."

Then she was running toward me, into my arms, and suddenly her lips were on mine, and I couldn't have felt happier. Everyone was cheering, _including that damn bastard Mustang._ I would have to -- I don't want to admit it, though -- pay him back, later.

I pulled away and she grinned, still crying. "Open yours."

I ripped apart the wrapping, opened the box, and saw a necklace -- a locket. Honestly, I couldn't care less about a locket. But this was from Winry. This, I _had _to treasure. I opened it and my breath caught in my throat.

There -- there, right _there --_ was a picture of me, Winry, and Al. I loved it. And I'm not a normally sentimental person. But there I was, tears pouring out of me because I'd never received a gift like hers ever before. I heard the heavy thuds of Al behind me, and Al and Winry and I hugged, and then Hughes, and Elicia, and Gracia, and even Armstrong, and damn well I hope not Mustang but if he did join I didn't notice because I had Al and Winry and nothing could be better.

But when everyone pulled apart from each other, I saw that Mustang had indeed not attached himself to our gigantic bear hug and instead took that time to give his own gift to his special person.

I saw him plant a soft kiss on Hawkeye's lips and found myself staring, quite rudely, and when they pulled apart Mustang glanced at me and winked. Then Hawkeye turned to see what he was staring at and saw me. She grinned, and the room lit up.

Hawkeye was beautiful. I honestly thought so. But I'd never admit it to anyone. So I smirked at Mustang, pulled Winry right beside me and mouthed, _Too bad, I've got my own blond here._

And I did have my own blonde. I turned and saw Winry gaping at the sight in front of her and I saw the slight jealousy on her face by how beautiful Hawkeye was.

I pulled her behind me and said, "Don't worry. You're the most beautiful."

"No she's not!" Mustang yelled when he was done giving Hawkeye her present. He was smiling, pulling Hawkeye toward him. "Mine is!"

"Mine is!" I called back to him, smirking.

"You're wrong! I've got the most beautiful!"

"Wanna bet?!"

"Yeah, I do!"

I grinned at the colonel. "Whatever. Have a good Christmas."

He looked stunned. I couldn't believe myself, either. I would have never said that under normal circumstances. I was too giddy right now.

Finally, he smiled -- I mean smiled, not smirked, _smiled --_ and said, "To you, too, Ed."

And Hawkeye grinned again. "Goodnight, Edward."

As I pulled Winry up the stairs with me, I heard Mustang call, "Don't get her pregnant! I'm not ready to explain the birds and the bees yet -- "

"OH, SHUT UP, YOU DAMNED JERKHEAD CANDLE ON LEGS," I bellowed down the staircase.

I heard a giggle from downstairs, and a mutter, and then suddenly Mustang sprinted past him and shrieked, _"I've already got the candle on for a hot night!"_

"You corny bastard," I hollered after him. I heard his bark of laughter and grinned. Whatever. It was Christmas. So what if they were acting a bit out of character? Me and the colonel get along? Probably'll never happen again. And Hawkeye being this loose? Must be the wine. But it didn't matter. I'd prepare my fullmetal self for a beautiful night with the most beautiful girl. Of course, I thought, Mustang wouldn't believe me. He's got his own bird to look after.


	46. Cigarette

The phone was ringing.

Mustang honestly didn't feel like picking it up. He felt like crap, and the room was filled with cigarette smoke.

"Havoc," he growled, for the third time in ten minutes, "put that damn smoke butt _out._"

"But _sir!_" Havoc stomped his foot. "It's snowing outside and it's cold in the halls. This is the only thing that keeps me warm."

"Go get a girlfriend!"

"You keep _stealing_ all of mine!"

Mustang rolled his eyes. "Well -- would it matter if I said to _please_ put the damn smoke butt out?" His dark eyes glinted.

_"Sir --_ "

The door to the office opened and Falman walked in, closely followed by Hawkeye. She marched up to Mustang's desk and dropped a large file on it. "Edward Elric's report, sir."

"Thank you," he acknowledged, though still glowering at Havoc. "Scare Havoc's ass to put the smoke butt out, will you?"

"I'm damn well _cold_, Colonel!" Havoc grimaced.

"Havoc, put the smoke butt out," said Hawkeye.

Havoc pointed to Mustang and told her, "Tell him to stop stealing my girlfriends."

"Sir," said Hawkeye, turning to Mustang, "stop stealing Second Lieutenant Havoc's girlfriends."

And Mustang laughed. "Are you kidding? Do you want me to say _please_ tell him to put the smoke butt out?"

Hawkeye glared at him for a moment, and Mustang vaguely heard Falman bark out a laugh. "Honestly, sir, _everyone_ here would find it very useful if you would stop stealing Havoc's girlfriends."

"So it would be beneficial for all of you, then."

"Yes, sir."

_"Damn it,_ Havoc, _put the damn cigarette out!"_

"Stop stealing my girlfriends!"

There was a click and a sudden _bang!_ and Lieutenant Hawkeye had two handguns pointed at both Mustang and Havoc. "Havoc -- put the cigarette out. Colonel -- like I said, if you would stop stealing Havoc's girlfriends -- actually, everyone's girlfriends -- then we would all be very relieved."

And then Falman noted: "Hey -- it's stopped snowing!"

The clouds moved away from the sun, and the light of it filtered through the window. It rested on Hawkeye, and when Mustang turned around to once again glare at Havoc his eyes were stolen by the literally _glowing_ lieutenant.

There was a sudden smirk on his lips and he said, "Special exception. Fine, I'll stop stealing your girlfriends, Havoc."

Havoc seemed satisfied and mashed the smoke butt in the can on his desk. As Hawkeye passed by Mustang's desk to her own, Mustang leaned forward and whispered, "I'm sure _you_ are extra pleased, now, aren't you, Riza?"

And she turned to face him, eyes hard, but a ghost of a smile on her face. "I can only imagine how it would be for me to be the special exception."

He smirked at her and leaned back in his chair.


	47. Singing

"Miss Riza? Can I come in?"

I ignored his knocks on my bedroom door, slightly disturbed that he would want to come in my room in the middle of the night. But his knocks became louder, more desperate, that I couldn't let him stay in the hall.

Jumping up from my bed, where I had been peacefully reading a romance novel, I almost ripped the door open in my haste and hurry to get him to be quiet. "What?" I inquired acidly.

Rubbing his neck, he admitted, "Master sort of passed out on my bed. He was drinking a lot, and he didn't really know which room was his so he went into mine..."

Rolling my eyes, I squeezed past him and down the hall to his bedroom. Sure enough, there was my father, passed out on the bed and a bottle of liquor hanging limply from his hands, about to fall. I treaded into the room and carefully took the bottle, then leaving him to his own. Roy was waiting for me by the staircase. He followed me downstairs as I threw the bottle away.

"So, where do I sleep?"

The question had me thinking for a while. "You can sleep in my room, on the floor," I muttered, straightening my blouse. "But you have to wait for me to get ready."

He grinned. I knew what he was thinking, but I didn't address him on it. Turning back to the stairs, I said, "Go get your clothes, change, and then you can come."

"Riza."

I faced him, slightly annoyed. "Yes, Mr. Mustang?"

"I really appreciate this," he said, flushing scarlet, running a hand through his hair. "I could just sleep on the couch, you know, it wouldn't be a problem."

"Father's assessing you tomorrow," I answered coolly. "It's best you get a good night's sleep. In fact, I'll let you sleep on the bed; I'll sleep on the floor."

"I don't want you to sleep bad," said Roy worriedly, looking skeptical. "Honestly, I'll be fine tomorrow, Riza." He followed me up the stairs, but instead went into his room to get his clothes, where my father had passed out on the bed. Then he shut the door.

"I'll change in the hallway," he told me, pulling off his sweater. I could feel myself turn red, and I hurried to my bedroom.

As I slid out of my sweater, I turned to my mirror to stare at the tattoo on my back. I couldn't risk letting Roy see, so I pulled on a loose jacket over my nightgown, buttoning it up. I would be warm, but that was okay.

A minute or two later, Roy knocked on the door. Sighing, I let it creak open under his hand. "Can I come in?"

"Sure." I let a fluffy blanket drop onto the ground and I spread it out, pulling a ragged pillow off my bed and placing it on the floor. Then I took my book and slid under the covers, starting to read.

He closed the door and silently got on the bed, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Then, to my surprise, because I'd never heard him do it before, he started to hum.

I raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him, but he continued to hum.

After a few minutes of his humming, I couldn't stand it any longer, and I asked, "What _is_ that?"

"Hm?" He turned over to face me. I marked my page and shut my book.

"That song," I said, putting the book away. "What is it?"

He looked embarrasseed all of a sudden. "Oh... I'm just... I made it up." He ran a hand through his hair.

"It's... " I began, but then I couldn't get it out. He watched me, looking anxious. "It's nice," I finished, sounding like an idiot.

"Thanks." He grinned.

A few minutes later, while I was trying to sleep, and the lights were turned off, I heard him humming again. It was the same tune.

He stopped again. "Riza? You asleep?"

I froze. Was I supposed to respond? Maybe he'd continue to hum. I stayed silent, eyes wide in the dark, facing away from him.

"Guess you are.... " He seemed relieved. I sighed inwardly and shut my eyes again.

He started to hum, and I couldn't help but listen.

And then he started to sing. I couldn't believe it. Was that why he was asking if I was asleep?

_"Party,"_ he sang softly into the dark, _"A rain of champagne... sexy lady... "  
_  
I felt my cheeks turn hot.

_"A kiss for your escort..."_

He had a really nice voice. It was deep and warm.

_"Now, it's showtime, despite a message of love... the moonlight vanished in an instant... "_

He paused. My heart sunk. But then he started to hum. He apparently didn't have words for this part. I gathered all my courage, and opened my mouth.

_"Rainy days are pleasant," _I sang softly, and I heard him gasp in surprise,_ "but no thank you."_

I could imagine him grinning. _"Ohh.... a foolish, lonely man," _he sang, responding to my line.

_"But that scene is sort of cute -- "_

_"Drops soaking into our eyes -- "_

And we went silent, except for Roy's humming, and then he broke into it again: _"Now, I'll embrace you with these hands. You see, I wanna set you on fire... "_

_"Tonight, at midnight,"_ I sang back,_ "let's look for a star. That's... a bit shy."_

He chuckled, before adding on. _"Tomorrow, at eleven, we'll check out from loneliness together."_

"You pervert," I whispered.

"Thanks," he said smugly. "Go on."

Giggling (I giggled? My _god_), I went on._ "Dripping wet, you're like a puppy without skill."_

"You're mean," he said. _"Oh, I know I'm incompetent."_

_"But it's okay to not always be strong."_

_"Wiping drops from your cheeks."_

_"Now, I want to hold you tight,"_ I said, the song entrancing me,_ "a siren of irony that strangles everyone. Rainy days are pleasant, but no thank you."_

_"Ohhh, a foolish lonely man," _laughed Roy, turning to face me again.

_"But that sort of scene is cute,"_ I responded, smiling at him.

_"Drops soaking into our eyes,"_ he said, moving closer. I sat up and placed my hands on the edge of the bed and leaned on it. And as though we were reading each other's minds, we ended softly.

_"Now I'll embrace you with these hands,"_ we sang, his deep, velvet voice mixing with my own. His arms wrapped around me and pulled me onto the bed. _"You see, I want to set you on fire."_

And he hummed again, holding me tight. When he finished, I forgot about my place on the floor, and we fell asleep, just like that.

**

**If you haven't noticed, it's the song 'Ame No Hi Wa No Thank you' by Roy and Riza's voice actors from the first anime. It was originally in japanese, but I took the translated version for this chapter.**

**Review please :)**


	48. Tea

I felt the grin light up on my face as I watched Hawkeye-sensei look over my work. I'd done perfectly. I couldn't have gone wrong anywhere. It looked exactly as it had in the book, and even Miss Riza, who had the best eyesight around, agreed that it was literally a copy of the transmutation circle.

"Good," said Hawkeye-sensei gruffly, nodding at my work. "Now we have to see if it's not to hard for you to manage."

Of course it wasn't. I was amazing at this stuff. I was a genius. I was a _prodigy_. I placed my hands down hard on the transmutation circle, feeling the alchemy run down my arms and onto the paper; the cannon turned to the door just as Miss Riza entered through the door, a tray full of scones in her arms, and promptly shot her with a blast of freezing water.

She shrieked; at first, I didn't know what happened. It was just supposed to shoot cold water. Why was there a scream? But then I realized that Miss Riza had come in.

"Oh no," I said worriedly, standing up. "Sorry!" I ran over to her, ignoring Hawkeye-sensei, who looked extremely annoyed.

She was shaking. "Miss Riza, are you okay?" I asked, kneeling down next to her. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd come in now."

"I-it's fine," she whispered. I couldn't tell if the drops of water coming down from her eyes were tears or the cold water I'd aimed at her. She sniffed and hiccuped. I knew then that she was crying. "What's wrong?" I questioned, picking up the scones that had fallen from her tray.

"F-father will be angry wi -- with me," she muttered, shivering. Her teeth chattered helplessly. I glanced up at Hawkeye-sensei; he was coming, fast, his face set hard, his hands clenched.

"Sensei, please, it wasn't her fault," I begged, but instead he lifted Miss Riza up and set her on the couch and pulled a blanket from the cabinet, wrapping it around her.

"Go make her some tea," he ordered, and I obliged. I got up and ran out the study to the kitchen, hurriedly boiling some water and pulling the tea bags from the drawer.

"Boy!" yelled Hawkeye-sensei nearly five minutes later, when I'd just finished with preparing the tea. I carefully held the teacup in my hands and went into the study. "Here, sensei," I said, holding it out to him. However, Hawkeye-sensei shook his head and said, "Hand it to her _yourself,_ boy."

I hesitated; would she allow me to give it to her? Would she be angry at me? Why couldn't Hawkeye-sensei do it himself?

"Here, Miss Riza," I muttered, glaring at my feet, handing the teacup to her. She took it with trembling hands and said quietly, "Th-th-thank you, Mr. Mustang."

She liked it? Gaining my confidence back just slightly, I looked up and saw her sipping the tea gingerly , and then saw Hawkeye-sensei folding his arms across his chest, looking annoyed.

"Alright, go clean up," he ordered me, and then added, "Riza, when you're done, you go too."

"Yes, Father," she murmured in response.

I mopped the floor for the next twenty minutes, while Riza finished her tea and sat, shivering, on the sofa of the study. Hawkeye-sensei fell asleep on the desk.

"Mr. Mustang?" Miss Riza stood up, dropping the soaking blanket on the sofa, and grabbing another mop. "I can help, can't I?"

"Oh -- um -- sure," I stammered, and I moved over so she could help me. Silently, save for Hawkeye-sensei's breathing, we worked on mopping the floor, and in no time the study was clean.

"Thanks for the help, Miss Riza," I told her, grinning. She smiled back, though just slightly, and held out her hand.

"Ask me anytime and I'll do it, Mr. Mustang," she said honestly -- I knew she was honest, because the look in her eyes was the one I saw every time she gave her father. But there was something else. Her twelve year old eyes were filled with another emotion I couldn't quite place. I put it aside for now, telling myself that I'd figure it out later.

"Thanks, Riza," I said, using her name without the title. I pulled her into a loose hug. "I know I can always count on you."

"Okay," she said into my chest. "I think Father is awake. You can let go now."

I let go and looked at Hawkeye-sensei; sure enough, his eyes were wide and staring at us.

"Bed!" he snapped. "Now. No more talking. Roy, you're going to be starting a new chapter tomorrow. Sleep."

I shot a grin at Miss Riza, and I went to my bedroom. Maybe tomorrow, I'd pour water all over her. And then I'd hug her again, and apologize. And she'd have those two emotions in her eyes. Honesty, and... and...

Well, I couldn't think of it now. I'd think of it tomorrow, after I started my new chapter.

I couldn't wait for it to all start.

**

**Review please! I get inspiration like that ;)**


	49. Blind

**This chapter is a SPOILER for the Fullmetal Alchemist Manga Chapter 102. DON'T READ if you don't want to know what happens!**

Almost all dialogue in this chapter was taken from the fan-translated version of the chapter. I do not own FMA. Hiromu Arakawa does.

************

It was when he saw the gate before him that all time seemed to freeze. Everything was a bliss, a dazing white that surrounded everything.

There was a slight echo, and the gate opened. An enormous eye that seemed to read his soul gazed at him, and suddenly everything was pitch black as he was pulled into the abyss.

There was no wind, no sound as he was dragged through the gate; however, his mind was bursting, a throbbing sensation that wouldn't go away no matter how hard he tried. Everything was pitch black. He could see nothing.

Suddenly, after his head seemed just about ready to explode, it stopped and he heard the familiar crackle of alchemy; his body rocketed out from thin air and he crashed. What he crashed into, he wasn't sure: feeling around him, it seemed as though he was on a floor.

_"Colonel?!"_

That was Fullmetal's voice. He knew it. Panting heavily, and his head throbbing painfully, he kept his eyes closed and tried to grab a hold of himself. Another crack of alchemy split through the air and a graceful landing of something not too faraway.

"I've brought you the fifth one, Father," said a voice, all too familiar, but not Fullmetal's. It was Selim Bradley's.

"Mmm," said another. This voice he did not recognize. "We've got five _bodies,_ yes. But Alphonse Elric is not actually with us at the moment."

He sat up, holding his head; he felt he could speak now. "Fullmetal.." His voice cracked slightly. "Where are we...?"

"In their boss's lair!" Fullmetal responded in a panic. The clearness of Fullmetal's voice meant he was nearby. "What happened to you?" Fullmetal continued.

"They took me to... an empty white world with a massive gate," said Roy, feeling his eyes open. It was still pitch black. How could Fullmetal wander in this place when no lights were on? And speaking of which, where _was_ Fullmetal?

"_GATE?"_ roared Edward. "_WHAT'D IT TAKE? ARE YOUR LEGS STILL THERE? YOUR ARMS?"_

Roy's legs were suddenly pulled out from under him, and his face connected with the hard, cold floor. But Roy had no idea what was going on. What was Fullmetal doing to him?

"What are you _doing?"_ yelled Roy, glaring at where he believed Edward was. He had no idea; he could not see a thing. "Are you _with _me, Fullmetal?"

"Huh?" Edward's voice carried through the suffocating darkness. "What're you talking about...?"

Where _was_ he? Roy groped around him, but felt nothing. Was there something wrong with him? Could Edward see in this dark? "It's pitch black," began Roy, trying to see through nothing. "I... can't see a thing. Where are we? Can you see any lights?"

There was a deafening silence. Edward's breath hitched: the dark seemed to become even more deadly than before. And suddenly, Roy understood the painful truth.

"I... can't see..."

He pressed his hands against his knees to heave himself up. Wandering slowly and uselessly, he stretched his hands out before him for any walls, anything. His foot caught a pipe; Roy was pulled to the floor like a bullet, the crash echoing in the room and Roy's dark, unearthly world.

"N... no," whispered Edward. Roy stared unseeingly below him in shock, keeled against the ground. Hands suddenly held his shoulders, though both were warm. Neither Edward nor Alphonse held him, but someone else.

A slight cough, or what seemed to be one, and then:

"Have you gone blind?"

Selim Bradley's voice cut through the air. "Splendid," he said contently. "Of all the alchemists out there, your abilities were the most troublesome. Now... Roy Mustang. May you suffer anguish."

"The truth is cruel," added the unfamiliar voice. "A pair of brothers who abandoned reason and tried to resurrect their departed mother, seeking her warmth once more; one loses a leg to stand on and his only remaining family, the other the ability to feel the warmth he so desperately missed; a woman who tried to take back her dead child, only to end up with a body that will never again nurture the seed of life; and... a man who had a grand vision to save his country loses his eyesight, forever unable to see what his beloved nation will become. All of you... your proper punishment was bestowed upon you, but in their place, you were robbed of your pride."

Pride. Of course. Roy's hands clenched on the ground. The hands on his shoulders squeezed him slightly. The hands, he deduced vaguely beneath the painful truth that he was blind, belonged to the woman.

"That is what you humans revered as your god... the _Truth."_

And the air burst. Literally.

Roy felt bits of the cieling of the room he was in rain on his cheeks; a thud and a cry; Edward's cry of, "_MAY!"_

"There it is," said the young girl's voice. "It may look different, but I can sense it. You're the leader of the immortals," she accused, "aren't you?"

The unfamiliar voice hissed through the room, through all the crashes of the cieling. "She actually broke into my abode. That child..."

"_Ah! What's wrong with Alphonse?"_

The girl's voice was very close to Roy; the throbbing returned; Roy covered his useless eyes with a hand and knelt on the floor as the lady holding him replied, "I don't know. It's like he's unconscious."

The girl choked back a cry. "Wake up, Alphonse! Alphonse!"

Roy tensed. Alphonse was unconscious. But... how could that be?

The girl sobbed and sobbed for what seemed like hours, but what could only be minutes. In a few moments, the air cracked again. Alchemy sparked through the air; Edward whirled around as Alphonse's armor clanged on the cold floor. "AL?"

The childlike scream pierced the air and Alphonse's armor clanged violently. "Al!" yelled Fullmetal in what seemed to be relief. Roy stared in their direction as the dark seemed to fill his mind.

"Brother? All right... I'm back," said Alphonse.

"Alphonse!" cried the little girl.

Alphonse paused, and Roy could almost see him looking around. "Where are -- ah!"

Roy peered blindly from behind his hand, still in complete shock. No one was okay anymore.

He could not see.

What would he do now, to save Amestris?

Edward? Alphonse?

His former subordinates?

But wait...

Riza.

Oh, no. He wouldn't see her smile, her frown, her everything. Devastation seeped through him like poison. And yet she'd tried so hard to keep him safe. How would he lead a country now?

The black suddenly enveloped him with a nervous, pressing fear and tension.

A slight chuckle was heard, and the unfamiliar voice called out once more. _"The fifth one," _it began, _"is here!"_


	50. Agony

Agony like a flame.

He knew what that felt like. Of course he did. Pain, distortion of the world around him, no way to be truly happy. Agony... like a flame.

He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face, blinking in exhaustion, unseeing. Commotion was all around him. He just couldn't see it. It pained him to hear the screams, just like in war. Agony. Like a flame.

He was essentially a zombie now. He had no mind of his own. If he couldn't see, what could he do? He was controlled by the powers of the world's shadows. Depths of sorrow. Depths of agony, like a flame.

He couldn't see their faces anymore. Couldn't read their expression, couldn't understand them. He sat on the floor, tears threatening to spill over the brinks of his eyes, and gave a shuddering gasp. Is this how Hughes felt right before he died? Unable to help, useless, the world turning without his consent to live? That was certainly how he felt now, as he sat on the hard floor. Useless. And that was agony. Like a flame.

He wondered what he would tell _her._ The love of his life, with whom he'd been with most of his life. What would he say? What would _she _say? Would someone else tell her? He was so determined to see the future happen. To claim the country, to lead it to prosperity. But now it was impossible. He wondered if she would feel just as pained as he did, but only for following him all this time to have this happen. Agony like a flame.

He started to cry. He loved her so much. She knew that. She always knew that. She never failed to know. He would tell her every night; she would smile every time, nod, and give his a kiss on the cheek. An escape from the dark. Until now. He wouldn't see her smile anymore, no nods. He craved her company right now more than ever. And she wasn't her. It was agony, like a flame.

Agony like a flame. Tears slid down his cheeks in rivers. He moaned in despair, rocking himself slowly. He wanted to see so badly. To help everyone around him.

It was indescribable pain. Agony... like a flame.


	51. Father

He had never seen his father, not even once when he was born. He had asked his mother what had happened to him, but she only gave him a smile and told him to play with his toys. That she would tell him some other time.

But he wasn't convinced. So he'd gone to the Fuhrer, who had been giving him and his mother the care and support they needed to live, though his mother made a good amount where she worked.

"Mr. Fuhrer," he said seriously. "Mother won't tell me about my father. Perhaps you know?"

The smile that had been on the Fuhrer's face vanished and was replaced by a look of despair. "I'm sorry," said the Fuhrer quietly. "I don't believe it's my place to tell you."

"Not even just one detail?" he pleaded.

The Fuhrer regarded him silently, until he sighed. "Your mother wouldn't approve… but of course, you have a right to know something. She hasn't told you? At all?"

He shook his head at the Fuhrer.

"Your father's dead," said the Fuhrer. "Has your mother told you about the Five Sacrifices?"

This time, he nodded.

The Fuhrer turned his gaze to a nearby window, watching the people beneath it walk by. "One sacrifice out of those five died. He was your father. He didn't know it at the time. At the time, you weren't born – you were within your mother."

The Fuhrer paused. Finally, he turned back to the boy. "It… wasn't my place to be Fuhrer. It was his wish to see this country through to its prosperity. His eyesight had been taken, but not his vision. He was determined to live. But the Father of the Seven Homunculi – the God – he couldn't live any longer. And before the Father died, he latched onto the sacrifice and pulled the sacrifice with him. Your mother had once stated that if your father died, she would leave with him, but she had you. So she stayed."

Edward Elric, the Fuhrer of Amestris, knelt down beside the boy and held up a mirror. "What do you see?"

"Myself," said the boy weakly.

"Of course," said the Fuhrer. "Yourself. But what is also there is your father."

The boy lifted a hand to his raven hair and watched as the person in the mirror did the same. "You're a carbon copy of your father," said the Fuhrer. He smiled as the boy stared in wonder at the mirror. "When you grow older, you'll see – your father will always be right here – " the Fuhrer pat the boy's chest, " – with you, always. Do you understand? His eyesight was gone, taken by the world, and so was his body, but his vision always remained. Though he never became Fuhrer, _you_ can."

The boy's onyx eyes became wide. "Do you mean…"

The Fuhrer nodded. "I've told you everything, I'm afraid. Your mother will be mad at me – "

The door to the Fuhrer's office opened. "Ed, General Hawkeye's here," said Alphonse Elric, his short dirty blond hair glinting in the sunlight.

"Thanks, Al," said the Fuhrer. "He's right here, Riza," he added, as the general walked through the door. She gave a gasp of relief. "Oh thank god, you're safe," she said, taking her son into her arms. "Thank you, Fuhrer."

"Edward," corrected the Fuhrer. "I don't want to be called by that title. It was never rightfully mine."

The boy looked up at his mother as she smiled at the Fuhrer. "Alright, Edward. Let's go," she told her son, getting to her feet and starting for the door.

"He told me," the boy said. "He told me everything. Please don't be mad at him, I had to know."

His mother stopped dead in her tracks. When she turned to face her son once more, she was crying. "Did you really…?"

"I'm sorry, Riza," said the Fuhrer. "But he had to know. He looks so much like him."

"I know," she breathed, "but I wanted to wait until he was older so he would understand – "

"I already understand, Mother," said the boy sadly. "You don't have to hide anymore. I'm already born. If you want to go find Father, I won't stop you."

Her eyes became wide as he said this. "Oh, sweetheart, no," she said, shaking her head and kneeling down to embrace him. "I can't do that – I need to stay here with you."

"But you're always so sad," said the boy. "I'm sorry."

The guilt inside him was eating him up. He was keeping his mother from going to his father. He never should have been born, so his mother would be able to go where his father had gone.

"No," said his mother. "Don't you dare. It isn't your fault, do you understand me?" She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, a tear trickling down her cheek. Finally, her eyes opened, and she gazed at her son with hard (but still soft) eyes. "Your father was just like this, too. He always took the blame on himself. Besides, he's always right here, inside everyone," she said, bringing a hand to where her heart was, "and he will never leave."

"Should we show him?" asked Alphonse from by the door. "You know, down at the entrance of Headquarters…"

"The statue?" asked the boy.

A few minutes later, they were standing in front of the grandest statue the boy had ever seen. The figure was a man sporting a military uniform and a pair of ripped gloves. His long trench coat flew behind him in the imaginary wind, his feet shoulder width apart, and his eyes were narrowed in the direction of an invisible enemy. Where there would normally be a carved spot for pupils in the statue, however, there was none in this man's eyes. Instead, the gaze of the man was unfocused yet focused all at once. His hands were shaped in the form of a prayer, as the boy had always thought the man was doing, but now, he saw that the man was not praying (maybe inwardly, he was), but instead, clapping with a great force. The boy could nearly feel the energy the statue radiated.

But his mother called him over to the plaque right under the statue. "Go on," she advised. "Read it."

With the Fuhrer, Alphonse, and his mother beside him, the boy found the courage to read the plaque.

"'_The Greatest of the Five Sacrifices,_'" he read slowly. "_A man who gave his life for the future of Amestris."_

He paused, taking in the next few words. Finally, with a hoarse, cracked voice, he read, "_May Colonel Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, be forever in the heart of Amestris.'"_

Roy Mustang.

"Do you see?" inquired his mother from behind him. "You're just like him, sweetie."

The boy turned around. "Is that why…?"

"Is that why your name is also Roy?" finished the Fuhrer. "Yes. Because you're the son, and he's the father. Because you're the one who'll finish what he tried to do. Because one day, _you'll _be Fuhrer."

"Because one day, you'll be the Flame Alchemist," added his mother. The Fuhrer turned to her, slightly puzzled. "But I thought that the secrets were burned – "

"The secrets may have been burned, but I've kept his notes," said the boy's mother. She turned to her son. "Roy James Hawkeye, though your father may be gone outwardly, he will always be with Amestris, and because he's in Amestris, he will be with us. Forever."

And the boy, far more intelligent than what people credited him for, smiled slightly. He knew his father now. And every day, he would come speak to him.

The day he would become Fuhrer, he'd tell his father.

And when his life ended, he would finally meet him.


	52. Details

You see her everyday at the breakfast table, sitting patiently with a simple plate of scrambled eggs and toast, a side of pickles, and a stick of butter sitting on a butter plate. She's normally dressed in a white blouse and a long black skirt that trails around her small ankles; her blond hair is always cropped short, and her carmine eyes are always wide, watching you. You always notice the little details; the way she twists her 'kerchief when she wants to ask if she can be excused, the way she bites her bottom lip when she's hesitating, the way her thumbs twiddle when she's nervous.

But the details about her that don't actually occur _on_ her are what intrigue you the most. Everyday, when you go in the living room, you see the flowers in the vase on the crooked coffee table arranged the same way (the rose is always facing the dusty fireplace, the daisy toward the window, the tulip toward the staircase and the hyacinths facing the kitchen). She always turns on the fireplace at exactly thirty five after seven in the evening, and she always touches the same spot on the door before she opens it to reveal either the dear neighbor (who, in reality, lives about a kilometer away) who brings baskets of baguettes (because she seems to know that her father has run out of money) or the local doctor, who stops to check your master's health (he has a chest deficiency he'd developed after a traveler brought small pox to the small town).

She's only thirteen, young, but she's endured a lot. When she wants to talk about something personal, she always stands slightly straighter (not that she slouches, she always stands tall) and her eyes narrow slightly – but when she's happy, it's obvious, even though it's not as direct. You see the corners of her lips quirk upward, and her eyes always glimmer slightly more than before. When she's embarrassed, she ducks her head and purses her lips, flushing only a bit.

You study sometimes in the kitchen, with the light pouring down on the table from the window peeking from behind the sink. You draw transmutation circles – basic ones, because your master finds you unworthy to handle such a secret – and she always hands you a cup of tea, in the same cup, holding it in the same hand and always at the same angle, the same amount of tea every time.

Sometimes, she slips up and you can't help but grin. She isn't perfect after all, which, of course, makes her even more precious. Sometimes, you move the flowers in the vase on the crooked coffee table and enjoy the look of frustration on her face as she lets a stream of air blow from her mouth up to her bangs in exasperation, moving her bangs from her eyes. You watch as she rearranges it and as she smiles in satisfaction. Sometimes, her father (your master) coughs violently and she hurries to give him sugar water and limes, which to you seems like the oddest combination, but her father enjoys it. The way she comes back, looking relieved, settles your own distress. Not only is her father content with his sugar water and his limes, but _she's_ happy, and if she's happy, you're happy, too.


	53. Grace

Roy was a man who didn't really care for gracefulness. He needed things to be done with and done with _quickly_ and _efficiently._ He didn't care about the manner, he didn't care just how much style had to go into doing the task. It just had to be done.

Of course, that was always _his_ manner of doing things. His lieutenant, Roy thought pleasantly, always had a different manner of doing things. Sure, she got them done probably with as much efficiency (perhaps much more) that he himself could muster, but everything she did always seemed to hold a certain air of gracefulness. She always walked beside him with the heels of her boots clicking softly in an even manner, small wisps of blond hair trailing down her cheeks; she always laid the paperwork on his desk so perfectly and so precisely and so _gracefully_, not a single piece of paper would slip out of the stack even barely; she even _shot_ with an air of gracefulness, for Heaven's sake! For the life of him, Roy couldn't figure out how she did it. It was something she and only she could do. He'd seen other female secretaries out there, and they couldn't hold a candle to his lieutenant. Even when she was sniping (he shuddered as he remembered Ishbal) she pulled the trigger with a _graceful_ finger.

He couldn't seem to find a different word to describe her. Where he was smooth and clumsy at the same time, she was only graceful. Another form of grace.


	54. Game

Games, as they grew older, were becoming somewhat of a joke.

When they were young and excited, games were part of their every day lives, where they could have fun and not worry about the world around them. They played chess often-they ran around the scraggly small backyard-they climbed the large willow tree near the stream behind her house. Games were a form of them to get away from his training and her mourning of her lost mother.

By their teens, their games consisted of simply thinking and debate. Words carefully tossed around each other, glances, smiles, and an evergrowing state of affection.

As time wore on, so did their games, and he left for the military. The war. And he realized then that, unlike games, he couldn't control the outcome of it. Life was no longer a game, especially when _she _showed up and was ready to protect him through and through. Games were nonexistant. Games were jokes themselves.

But still, time wore on, and everything fell into place. Sure, the homunculi regarded this as a _game._ A game where they were the players, the gods over the world, and all humans were simply chess pieces. Where _he_ was the king who was fallen to darkness, and _she _was the queen who had to protect him. He reminisced about before-where all he would ever do was simply play games with his queen.

Finally, the king rose again. So did his queen, and his knights, the two young boys who'd never seen anything as a game in their lives, and his entire army against the seven children of Father, and Father himself.

Games were out of the question now, and the strategy that he'd been a master of when he was younger finally came into play

When they won, the time for celebration was long overdue, but still unattainable. The games that the homunculi had played were the cause of immense destruction in the country, of families, of lives. They were the cause of both wars, the one where he'd gone earlier to serve his government, and the one later, where he'd gone to go serve his people.

But finally, it was over. Years and years of rebuilding had both him and her having more time for _themselves. _As their own form of celebration, they only served each other and strived for the best for their country. To lead their country in the right path. Because life, they knew best of all, was never, _ever_ a game.


	55. Suitor

The door slammed in my face and I stared at it in apprehension. Sensei could be so mean sometimes, I decided, and with that, I headed off to study more alchemic theory. I was walking through the kitchen when Riza entered with a plate full of mutant blueberry scones.

"Dr. Kohl dropped by," she said, giving me a knowing look as she placed the blueberry scones on the kitchen table. I picked one up, looking at it carefully, and set my theory book down on the table. Riza watched me as I reluctantly took a bite.

The scone nearly melted in my mouth and I gave Riza a look of surprise. "These are _really_ good," I told her. Despite looking extremely disfigured, they were amazing. Made by Dr. Kohl? I could hardly believe it.

Dr. Kohl was a thin, young doctor, perhaps twenty four or so and quite handsome, but who was just about the clumsiest person anyone would ever meet. He was the town's _only_ doctor as well. Normally, he stopped by to check on Sensei's worsening chest condition. Considering his clumsy state of mind, I was surprised by just how delicious the scones were.

Riza took one and bit into it as well. Her cheeks flushed red as she chewed. "I didn't know he could bake," she said after she swallowed.

"Give him a proper thank you next time," I advised her. "You obviously didn't think these would taste good."

"Neither did you, Mr. Mustang," she said, blushing at the 'thank you' comment. She liked him a bit, I knew, but I didn't really mind. She was thirteen and was in that... _mindset..._ about boys. Men. Whatever, I didn't really care. Most of the time.

"Roy," I corrected.

"Mr. Mustang," she insisted firmly. She was stubborn when she wanted to be.

"Well, anyway," I continued, taking five more scones and hoping she would stop blushing, "these are good. I'm surprised."

Riza scoffed lightly and took three more scones and putting them on a plate. "Save some for later, Mr. Mustang." She then left for the study with the plate of scones. I watched as Sensei opened the door, Riza offered the scones delicately, and Sensei's eyes softened. Good. At least he knew when to be nice to his daughter.

Sensei took the scones and then slammed the door again. Aghast, Riza walked back to the table just as I opened my theory book.

"It's okay," I said, taking another bite out of a scone. "He's like that to _everyone._"

Riza shot me a look that clearly said, _I'm not stupid, Mr. Mustang, I'm his daughter!_

"We should invite Dr. Kohl here one day," I added nonchalantly. "Just to make more scones."

Riza turned bright red once more. "No."

"Oh?" Maybe I would have some fun with this. "And why not, Miss Riza?"

"Because he's not... not... we're not..." she trailed off, staring firmly at the wall behind my head.

"Maybe he'll invite us to his wedding," I continued. Somehow, some woman had managed to deal with his clumsy attitude. He was getting married in two weeks.

Riza's mouth quirked downward, and she finally pulled her eyes down to meet mine. Me being my own sixteen year old self, I found it fun to make fun of her about these things. "But I don't think you'll like that."

"I just think he's a nice man," she said, frowning.

"You just think he's a nice suitor," I corrected her.

"You're a better suitor," she said.

And then she turned a tomato red, and I was certain I did too. "Sorry, Mr. Mustang," she said quietly, staring at her hands. I turned back to my theory book.

"Don't worry about it," I told her. "Dr. Kohl is a coward anyway."

"You're right," she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice.

Yet, somehow, I felt immensely pleased.


	56. Father 2

**Continuation of Chapter 51: Father.**

Roy James Hawkeye watched as his mother held his hand with a loosened grip, lying in her bed with the sunlight streaming through the windows and onto her white, whispy hair. The corners of her eyes crinkled as she watched her grandchildren speak in high, rapid voices about their day. She opened her mouth and breathed, "James?"

Roy smiled and nodded. "I'm here, mother."

Riza Hawkeye turned her head toward her son, and then to his wife, Rachel Elric Hawkeye, who surveyed the twins by the edge of the bed recount their day at school.

"James?"

"I'm here, mother."

Rachel leaned over and placed her hand over Riza's and Roy's. "It's okay, Momma," she said, her eyes glazing with tears. "We're all here."

It was true, and Riza could suddenly see the older, wiser Edward and Alphonse Elric standing side by side behind Rachel, with Winry at Edward's side and May at Alphonse's. Winry pushed back her blond hair, now delicately adorned with strands of silver, and went to stand by her daughter. Edward did the same, and all of them placed their hands on top of Riza's and Roy's.

"James?"

Roy gave a choked laugh. "Yes, mother, I'm here."

"Riza, it's okay," rasped a tall man from the back, nearly balding, holding onto his friends for support. "We're all here for you. For Roy." A large man beside him, already bald, murmured, _Havoc, no need to cry, now. _And Havoc hissed back, _Breda!_

"Roy?" breathed Riza.

"He'll be here soon, mother, don't you worry," said Roy, smiling wistfully.

"Grandmamma," Alex and Ryo Hawkeye chirpped simultaneously. "Don't worry! You'll be with Grandpappa soon!" And Riza Hawkeye smiled at her two grandchildren, and then to everyone else around them.

In the back of the room stood Havoc, Breda, and Fuery; Falman had passed away long ago from a disease up north, and his death was mourned greatly. Edward, Alphonse, Winry, and May Elric stood stood unwaveringly behind Riza's beloved son, Roy James, whom she always called by the latter, but whom everyone _else_ still called 'Roy.' Riza's eyes flickered to Ling, who hung behind the rest of the crowd with his loyal servant, Ran Fan, and who'd come from his rule of Xing to give his blessings for the lady - no, _soldier _- on the bed.

"James," Riza whispered. "James, I'm... so... proud of you."

Roy flushed a bright red. "Mother, I - " But he shut his mouth and allowed a small smile to twist his lips. Ryo came up to him grandmother and said in a small voice, "Grandmamma, we'll see you soon, okay?" And Alex added, "Maybe not at once, but soon we'll see you again!"

Finally, Riza allowed the tears escape her eyes silently. "James?"

"I'm here, mother."

Riza's hand tightened around her son's for a moment, and she closed her eyes, the trails of her tears glistening on her cheeks and the ghost of a smile on her lips. Then, her hold slackened, and Riza Hawkeye moved no more.

Roy stared at his mother's body in a daze, and the tears pressed behind his eyes insistently. But he knew that his mother and father didn't want him to cry. He didn't cry over his father, so why should he cry over his mother? They were two halves to a whole, both meant for each other, equal in every way. There was no need to cry over one than the other.

"Fuhrer Hawkeye."

Edward Elric grinned behind him. "Let's go."

Roy James Hawkeye took his children's hands in his own, his wife beside him, and left the room where his mother laid, tranquil, with his father now. Ryo stared behind him and watched as the door closed behind Lieutenant Colonel Fuery and whispered, "Is she happy?" Alex echoed Ryo with wide eyes, watching his father for an answer.

"She's happy," said Roy. "I know she is."

**3rd part? Maybe later.**


	57. Hayate

Roy could never understand how Hayate was always so happy. He was certain that Hayate was certainly displeased with a lot of things a lot of the time, but the dog always managed to bark excitedly, looking as though he were always smiling. It was certainly never something he picked up from his _owner,_ mused Roy as he watched his first lieutenant frown at a stack of paperwork in front of her. His eyes turned to the dog by her desk, who barked at Roy loudly.

"Shh, Braha," said the lieutenant.

"Hey, doggy doggy," cooed Second Lieutenant Havoc. "Wanna go grab a bite to eat?"

Hayate only wagged his tail in response, panting noisily. Roy smirked as Havoc continued to make childish noises with Breda and Fuery snorting in laughter in his wake. Falman shook his head in amusement while Lieutenant Hawkeye pursed her lips. "Havoc, I fed him twenty minutes ago," she said reproachfully.

"He's so adorable though," Havoc protested, lighting a cigarette. Roy coughed as the smell reached him and he said, "Havoc, how many times do I have to tell you to not smoke in this office?"

"About one thousand and one, sir, but don't get tired of it, you'll be telling me many more times in the future," Havoc replied easily, taking a long drag from his smoke.

Suddenly, Roy felt a tug on his leg. He looked down to see Hayate barking happily at him, looking back at Hawkeye for a moment. Roy followed the dog's gaze and saw his first lieutenant regarding his and Havoc's banter with a small smile.

She saw him looking and her smile quickly dissipated, much to his disappointment.

Perhaps Hayate learned from his master after all, though he was certainly much more open about it.


	58. Romance

I'm not really one for the sappy romance stories. I mean, _sure,_ it'd be nice to have a girl for myself but I always end up losing them. My latest girlfriend resulted in me being paralyzed. Of course.

Well, anyway, though _my_ adventures of romance are quite the tale, you should hear 'bout my boss. Ahh. Mustang. Now, he's something. He gets anyone he wants. One-night stands, sure. Of course there are tons who want to marry him and have his kids. He doesn't care one bit about them, really. I mean, he doesn't care about them, I guess, but he can't hide it from me. I can just _see_ the connection between him and Hawkeye. They're like… puzzle pieces. They fit together that well. They deny it, though.

"So. You and Mustang," I'd prompted Hawkeye one day. Boy, what a glare I'd gotten!

"So. You and Hawkeye," I'd explained to Mustang one day. Boy! He looked like he would make me into a human fire pit.

And before they each turned away, they were very, very, very, _very slightly_ smiling. Oh, I love my team.

So I may not have the best romantic life. I certainly haven't been through what _they've _been through… but that's another story.

Right now, I'm off to tend to Mustang.

Hawkeye's busy.

And Mustang basically has the Fullmetal Alchemist on his tail now, and I can already hear him cursing his head off.


	59. Heroes

People say war heroes are amazing.

People say they're the ones who deserve everything.

No… we really don't. The distress and the despair is the only thing that we deserve, the only thing we can really claim for ourselves. People say that we should get love and trust, but if anything it should be the opposite. No one has seen what we have. No one has gone into war and burned an entire city of innocent people. No one has felt the monster claw on the inside of their chest, begging to release these poor souls from their misery, to relent and just die in the rage.

The blood is the only thing we truly deserve on our hands, and that is it. No love, no friendship, and no happiness after all the horrors we have done to those who have done no wrong. Blood for listening to a man who controls our lives to the very end. Perhaps that is why we sit together here, trying desperately to grasp at a sense of what is reality. To understand why we were the ones chosen to do this. To understand why we are the lucky ones out of the 'heroes,' because we have each other.


	60. Reason

"Sir, please get to your paperwork."

No response.

"Sir?"

"Mmm."

"Wake up, please, sir."

"Give me a reason."

"Edward Elric is here."

A yawn. "Better reason…"

"Havoc is… well, wrecking havoc in the female locker rooms, sir."

"Haha. Very funny – " Yawn. " – lieutenant."

"Fine, sir. You can give me a ride home later."

"I'm up, I'm up."


	61. Goodbye

He wished he could have said goodbye.

Or, at least, given her a look, anything.

Even more so, he wished he could have told her (because it wouldn't have mattered anyway, she would have been gone) that he loved her.

But no. The homunculi said it was an _accident_ – accident his _ass_ – but he could clearly see that her lifeless eyes were due to Pride's choking shadows, cloaking her, and he could briefly hear her screams in the silence of the night as he laid in his bed, tears streaming down his cheeks.

He wished he could have been with her, he wished she wasn't so damn stubborn to keep to herself about who Selim Bradley really was, and he wished that he wasn't such a blind _jackass_ not to notice it. He mentally beat himself, adding to the burdens already shaping his mind, despaired over the fact that he hadn't gone to her apartment after that phone call, when she was clearly talking differently.

How would he cope?

He loved her. She knew that but he'd never said it. She'd said it plenty, from her daily trips to the cafeteria to the slight amused looks she'd given him as he fed Hayate at work. He let out an agonized scream and felt more tears flow down onto his pillow.

He was going to kill those homunculi. Those _bastards._

Or perhaps, he'd let them kill him first. They'd taken away Hughes and then her, and he was just inclined to let them win.

_Fullmetal would never forgive you,_ said a voice in his head.

_Fullmetal doesn't care about anything I do, _he shot back, his hands clenching the blankets until he felt them tear beneath his fingernails.

_Hughes won't forgive you. Riza won't forgive you,_ said the voice.

He made up his mind then. He'd kill them all, those damned power-hungry homunculi, and he'd be Fuhrer. He'd protect everyone. And when he would die, he would be able to tell her then. Despite that she probably knew.


	62. East City

"It's about _time!"_

His voice rang through the lobby of Central's military office, and the Fullmetal Alchemist froze as he entered the doors with his younger brother trailing behind him.

"What? I'm not late, give me a break!" Edward retorted angrily, and moved forward after glaring bullets at the colonel.

"You_ are_ late, you were supposed to be here on Monday," said the colonel. "You're lucky I happened to stay late anyway. I had extra work to do before heading out to East City."

Behind Ed, Alphonse's arms rose in apology. "His arm broke again. He had to get it fixed – sorry."

"Whatever," said Roy, extending his hand. "Where's your report? Hand it over. I was going to have you give it to Lieutenant Hawkeye, but she's already headed out for East City because you were _late. _But it doesn't matter anymore," he added as Edward opened his mouth to snap back angrily. "Fuhrer Bradley's made an exception for you anyway since he's been… occupied."

By the look on Ed's face, it was clear the young alchemist knew what the fuhrer's "occupation" was. He handed over a battered report hastily, and Roy rolled his eyes at the state of it and tucked it under his arm.

"So why're you heading out to East City, Colonel Mustang?" asked Alphonse patiently.

"Work," said Roy tersely.

"Liar," Ed threw back bluntly.

"Who said it was a lie? It's work related."

"The rest of your division is still here," said Edward smugly. "Except Lieutenant Hawkeye. What's so special in the east?"

Roy's eyes narrowed until they were slits against his face. "It's none of your business, Fullmetal. If you don't mind, I have a train to catch." He turned toward the doors Ed and Al had just entered through and dropped the report on a secretary's desk, informing the secretary to take it to the Fuhrer's office.

"I do mind," said Ed.

Groaning, Roy said, "Fine, it's not exactly work related as you think. But it's still related one way or another. Before you die out of curiosity, I'm going to the east to visit my teacher's grave."

"Your teacher – ?" said Al.

Ed's face took a form of a surprise. "You had a _teacher?"_

"How is that so surprising?"

"But – you don't seem like the… type… to have a teacher…"

"What? Because I seem like an arrogant, cocky, self-absorbed military official who finds it in his right to torture his subordinates with gathering reports and giving them to him in order to make him look good to the fuhrer and get promoted?" said Roy, becoming amused. "I'm not so one-dimensional. Every once in a while I happen to torture the higher-ranking officers too."

Edward turned red as Al said, "Why does Lieutenant Hawkeye have to go?"

"Well, she's my aide; she stays with me everywhere I go."

"But to visit your teacher?" said Ed. "That's kind of harmless, isn't it?"

"My teacher was her father. I was his apprentice," Roy told them simply.

Ed stared at the colonel with wide eyes as Alphonse stood silently behind him. Finally, the alchemist frowned and said, "I still don't get how that's remotely work-related."

"We're also going to see Lieutenant General Grumman."

"What? Why?"

"Lieutenant Hawkeye has some work to do with him," said Roy.

"Her, not you?"

"He was my commanding officer while I was stationed in East City, so I'll just report to him a little bit. He's also Lieutenant Hawkeye's grandfather."

"Wh – god, your family ties are so irritating!"

Roy didn't bother correcting him on the fact that it was Hawkeye's family ties they were speaking of, not his.

"So you've known the lieutenant for a while, then," said Alphonse kindly as Ed stood irritably in front of the colonel.

"Yes," said Roy.

"So…"

"I don't understand where this is going," said Roy. "And I _do_ have a train to catch, I wasn't lying about that."

Even though no emotion could be conveyed through Al's metal face, the boy's tone of voice said it all. "You trust her a lot, don't you?"

"This conversation is getting too damn sentimental," said Edward.

Ignoring the younger alchemist, Roy debated whether or not to answer, and if he did, how to answer it. _Yes, I trust her. I love her._

Watching as Ed stared out the doors he had entered through minutes earlier, Roy said to Alphonse, "I trust her with my life." It was true, but there was something else that was equally important and true as well.

"With your – " began Al.

"I trust her with my death, as well."

Roy smiled at the both of them, and Edward, irate at the colonel's sudden emotional, touchy, mysterious side, pushed him toward the doors and snapped, "Well, get your ass to East City and stop shoving all your lovey-dovey military crap down our throats!"

"You'd do the same for Miss Rockbell, Fullmetal," called Roy, and there was a gag behind him as he exited Central's military office. As an afterthought, and as a result of being deep in his thoughts, he added softly to himself, "You'd trust her with your life and death too, I'm sure."

**Sorry about the lack of updating. Don't worry. I'll be posting a fair amount in the next week or two.**


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